#in a way its like washing his hands of blood. giving him the body of someone who might never been involved in a fight never held a gun

[ruporas]

invisible scars (referenced previous talk here)

[ID: A colourless, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood talking about Wolfwood's scars. They're both laying in bed and topless. Vash lays on top of Wolfwood, playing with the rosary around his neck. Then, Vash kisses a spot on Wolfwood's chest. Wolfwood asks, "What are you doing?" Vash smiles sadly, "You got shot here. In the last town we visited. You didn't even bother moving."

Vash props himself up over Wolfwood, who frowns slightly. Wolfwood is quiet for a moment before he says, "You remember that, huh?" Vash grabs Wolfwood's left wrist and brings it to his face. "And here." He kisses another spot there. "When you helped free the hostages from that robber..." Wolfwood dismissively says, looking away, "Was a lucky shot." Vash huffs, “Don’t brag. Jeez.”

Half of Wolfwood's expression is shown, eyes returning to Vash who is now sitting up, continuing to say, "And..." Vash goes on and kiss Wolfwood's right palm. "You got cut here, even though that girl was aiming at me." A moment from the past flashes, of Wolfwood grabbing a knife aimed at Vash, his hand bleeding.

At present, Vash moves down and puts another kiss on Wolfwood's right shoulder. "And here, from watching my back." Another memory flashes of Wolfwood and Vash back to back. Vash looks back as Wolfwood grins while holding Punisher, bleeding from multiple gunshots in his shoulder.

"And," Vash combs up Wolfwood's hair to reveal his forehead, "Here." A final memory shows Wolfwood with a regeneration vial in his mouth while getting shot on his temple. The next panel is framed in blood with Vash at the center, eyes wide and stunned in horror. The next panel is a closed up shot of Wolfwood's eye, locked on Vash's face.

Back to present, Vash’s head is bowed down as Wolfwood raises a hand to his nape and says, “Spikey.”

Wolfwood looks serious and frowns as he says, "We talked about this. Those were my decisions. They're not there anymore. Forget about them." Vash looks very sad before he smiles ruefully and says, "I still see them. All the time." He leans down so they touch foreheads. Wolfwood’s sorrowful expression can be seen as Vash says, "You protect so much. I could never forget what you've done to me. And many others..."

In the last image, they're drawn more cartoonishly. Wolfwood sweats and asks, "You don't actually remember every wound, right?" Vash points at a spot on his chest. "Kuroneko left a scratch here 7 times." Wolfwood, startled, says, "Why the hell are you keeping count—" End ID]

Credits for ID here and here

[d1stalker]

A Peaceful Repose [Logan Howlett]

Summary: After some time away on a mission, Logan comes home, and all he wants to do is be around you

Warnings: clingy logan, showering together, sooo much fluff WC: 1.6k - MASTERLIST

----

The door of your apartment slowly creaks open, followed by the sound of a familiar, heavy tread against the wooden floor. Your heart skips a beat, in both relief and excitement—Logan’s back. 

But as he steps into the room, the sight of him makes you pause. He looks every bit as exhausted as you imagined, but it’s more than that. His clothes are torn and stained with dirt and dried blood, and a faint, musty smell of sweat and grime clings to him. His normally fierce gaze is dulled with fatigue, and the well-kept scruff on his face has grown wilder, more unkempt.

Your nose wrinkles slightly as you take in the full picture. “Logan…” you start, hesitating as he drops his bag on the floor with a loud thud. He catches your expression, and despite everything, he smirks, though it’s softer than usual, his eyes gleaming as they meet yours.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly and rough, but filled with a warmth that makes your heart swell.

“I missed you too,” you reply, stepping forward to close the distance between you. He reaches out, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close despite the state he’s in. The embrace is tight, almost desperate, and you feel the stiffness in his muscles, the way his body seems to sag against yours, as if holding you is the only thing keeping him upright. And as much as you want to melt into him, as much as you want to rest your head on his shoulder and breathe in his scent, the feel of the grit against your skin pulls you back.

“Logan, you need a shower.” Your voice gently chides as you lean back to look up at him, your hands smoothing over his chest before you brush a lock of hair away from his forehead, your fingers grazing the sweat-dampened strands.

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest as he holds you, the warmth of his breath fanning across your cheek. “I just wanna hold you,” he grumbles, his face nuzzling into your hair.

You tilt your head back a bit, giving him a fond, but pointed look. “Not like this, you don’t,” you tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek before wrinkling your nose again. “Seriously, babe, you stink.”

His mouth quirks into a tired, yet genuine smile, a rare sight that always makes your heart flutter. “Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he mutters, his eyes softening as he looks down at you.

“Go on,” you urge, giving him a gentle nudge toward the washroom. 

But Logan doesn’t move right away. Instead, he gives you a look, one that’s almost boyish in its vulnerability. “Can you come with me?” he asks, almost begging. “I’ve missed you… a lot.”

The sincerity in his tone, the way his eyes seem to plead with you, makes it impossible to refuse. You sigh, pretending to be more exasperated than you are, but the truth is, you’ve missed him just as much. “Alright, alright,” you relent, rolling your eyes playfully. “We’ll get cleaned up.”

A hint of relief washes over his features as he takes your hand, his rough fingers intertwining with yours as you lead him toward the bathroom. Once inside, you turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature until the steam begins to rise around you.

You turn to face him, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palms. “Let’s get you out of these clothes,” you say softly, reaching for the hem of his shirt. 

His hands cover yours, guiding them as he helps you pull the fabric over his head, his gaze never leaving your face. You can’t help but notice the remnants of bruises and cuts scattered across his body, and your heart aches to see him like this, knowing the toll the mission must have taken on him.

When he’s finally undressed, you shed your clothes quickly and step into the shower. Logan wraps his arms around your waist as he presses his forehead against yours, eyes closing as he takes in the moment.

The warm water cascades over both of you, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest, each breath syncing with your own. There’s a stillness between you, a moment suspended in time where nothing else exists but the two of you.

“God, I missed this,” he murmurs affectionately, gazing down at you with a quiet longing. 

“Me too,” you echo your voice barely above a whisper as if speaking too loudly might break the fragile intimacy of the moment. You reach for the soap, lathering it between your hands, the bubbles forming quickly as the scent of fresh citrus fills the air.

Logan watches you with an almost reverent expression as you begin to work the soap across his chest, your fingers tracing the hard lines of his muscles. His skin, though scarred and battered, is warm beneath your touch, the tension slowly melting away under the soothing rhythm of your hands.

He lets out a low, contented hum as you wash him, his eyes slipping closed as he leans into your touch. “That feels good,” he breathes, the words rumbling through his chest. 

You smile quietly, taking your time as you work your way across his torso, roaming every inch of him. When you reach his shoulders, you pause, stepping a little closer so you can run your hands up the back of his neck and into his hair, your fingers gently massaging his scalp.

The sound he lets out is almost a groan, and you can feel his body relax even further as your fingers work through the tangles in his hair. You can’t help but lean in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s a lazy, unhurried gesture, one that speaks of comfort, and Logan responds immediately, turning his head slightly to capture your lips.

The kiss is slow, achingly slow, devoid of the usual urgency or passion, but instead filled with something deeper—love, trust, and a profound sense of belonging. His lips are warm and soft against yours, and you find yourself sighing at the familiar taste of him.

When you finally pull back, your breath mingles with his, and he opens his eyes to meet yours. He doesn’t say anything, but his hands slide from your waist up to your back, pulling you so close into his orbit that there’s no space left between you. He holds you like this, his chin resting on the top of your head as the water continues to pour over both of you. It’s not about desire, but rather a need to feel you close, to reassure himself that you’re here, safe and sound in his arms.

You continue to wash him, your hands moving slowly and gently over his body, lathering his hair with care as the water rinses away the grime of the mission. Every so often, Logan presses a soft kiss to your forehead or the top of your head, small gestures of affection that make your heart ache with how much you love him.

As you wash the soap from his hair, you reach up to run your fingers through it one last time, making sure it’s clean. You notice his eyes are half-closed as his head begins to droop down toward your shoulder.

“You’re going to fall asleep standing up,” you tease gently, running your hands down his chest before stepping back to grab the showerhead, directing the water over his shoulders and back.

“Can’t help it,” he murmurs thickly with drowsiness. “You’ve got magic hands.”

After you’ve both rinsed off, you turn off the shower and reach for a towel, wrapping it around yourself before grabbing one for Logan. He takes it from you with a small, grateful smile, quickly drying off before he wraps the towel around his waist. But before you can do the same, he brings you into his arms again, his damp skin cool against yours as he holds you close.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft as he leads you towards the bed. He pulls back the covers, and the two of you climb in, still damp from the shower. Logan pulls you close, his strong arms encircling you as he pushes his face into the crook of your neck.

The scent of fresh soap and clean skin fills the air, and you can feel the last bits of tension leaving his body as he settles into the bed, his breathing evening out as the warmth of your embrace soothes him.

“You’re warm,” he mumbles.

“So are you,” you respond, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Your fingers trace soothing circles on his back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

Logan hums in satisfaction, his arms tightening around you as he presses closer. 

“You’re my everything,” he whispers.

You turn in his arms so you can face him, your hand resting against his chest. “And you’re mine,” you whisper back, your thumb brushing over his heart in a slow, soothing motion. 

In the quiet of the room, the only sound is the steady rhythm of Logan’s breathing and the faint thump of his heartbeat beneath your hand. You feel completely safe, completely loved, wrapped up in his arms, and you know that he feels the same. 

Drifting off to sleep, the last thing you hear is his voice, low and filled with affection. “Don’t ever leave me,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“Never,” you assure. “I’ll always be here.”

Logan lets out a deep, contented sigh, pressing a final kiss to your temple. And as the warmth of his embrace lulls you into sleep, you can’t help but think about how you were always meant to be here, by his side.

----

[bluelockmaniac]

SPLASH .ᐟ

ft. itoshi sae, itoshi rin, michael kaiser, mikage reo, seishiro nagi, & meguru bachira (honourable mention) x fem!reader

synopsis. showering & bathing with your bllk husbands !

content warning. sfw !! suggestive but not really (?) but obviously lots of nakedness ノ pet names ノ mentions of menustral period, blood, & cramps in rin’s part ノ you scare the shit out of rin ノ itoshi brothers call you insults affectionately ノ you might have smacked sae’s butt ノgentleman reo ノ they’re all crazy rich men obsessed with you .

notes. 5.6k words (approx. 1k+ each) !

𝜗𝜚 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

“hmm, this should do it!” you mused, a pleased smile gracing your lips as you admired your reflection in the vanity mirror. you twirled left and right, the rose-gold satin robe flowing gracefully like liquid gold as you checked yourself from every angle.

the silk was a recent gift from sae, one he had brought back from spain, and its smooth fabric clung loosely to your body.

tonight would be like every other night when your husband was home— you were ready to indulge in your routine— taking a shower with sae. initially, you were never the clingy type, but that all changed early in your marriage;

you had accidentally walked in on him under the assumption he was still at football practice, only to be met with the sight of him under the shower, water streaming down his sculpted body. you were flashed. though startled at first, he recovered pretty quickly and nonchalantly asked you to join him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. after all, it wasn’t like it was the first time you’d seen him naked, right?

your eyes flickered to the digital display on your mirror, noting the time and cool temperature. an idea occurred to you, and you decided that maybe after the shower, you could suggest a quick dip in the pool. the weather was nice and it wasn’t too late, either.

excitedly, you rushed into the master bathroom and swung the door loudly. you caught sight of him standing beneath the showerhead in the large shower enclosure, the droplets trailing down his well-built chest, then to his toned thighs and calves, and then finally pooling at his feet. the elder itoshi’s gaze met yours and he sighed, unfazed by your entrance— this had become routine for him, too.

his eyes travelled over to the smooth robe you were wearing, immediately recognizing it as the one he had gifted you. “you look beautiful,” he said simply as he reached to turn off the water and slid open the glass door.

“thank you,” you smiled as you began to undress. the silky material slipped off your shoulders easily, bunching up at your feet on the tiled floor. he extended his hand out toward you, and you took it, stepping into the shower stall.

“careful, don’t slip,” he warned.

you rolled your eyes, giving him a light smack on his rear, which made him frown slightly– he was usually the one doing that to you, not the other way around. you slid the door closed and retorted with a cheeky grin, “please, who do you think i am?”

he flicked your forehead gently and turned the water back on. “you say that every time but somehow still manage to slip, stupid.”

as the cool water hit your skin, you looked up at sae with a pout. “baby, the water’s too cold. i’ve told you before, i’d love it if you warmed it up whenever i enter.”

“yeah, yeah, what a spoiled princess,” he muttered, shooting you a half-assed glare before adjusting the temperature to your liking. you couldn’t help but smirk. there’s something you and only you could know— sae loved to spoil you like crazy during your showers, and that is precisely why you allowed yourself to play the role of a spoiled brat, knowing he would not mind and rather entertain it.

you wrapped your arms around his waist, looking up at him and purposely fluttering your soft lashes. he grunted, recognizing the familiar look of expectation in your serene eyes. he looked up at the shelf that held various bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. 

“which body wash do you want this time?” he asked, his hand hovering over the shelf, knowing you could be indecisive. “and no being picky.”

you tapped your finger against your lips, eyeing the different scents he had spoiled you with. “hmm, i want the coconut drift, pl–” before you could finish, he was already reaching for it, “actually, i want the raspberry dreamscape.”

he narrowed his teal eyes at you but complied anyway, grabbing your light blue loofah from the hook. he squirted the raspberry-scented body wash onto it, rubbing it until it lathered into a light pink foam. he sat down on the wide bench built into the wall, pulling you by the waist until you stood right between his legs.

you looked down at him with a gentle smile, sighing softly and resting your hands on his shoulders as he scrubbed from your neck down to your abdomen. he then turned you around to scrub your back.

“sae, i know you’re taking a peek,” you teased, glancing back at him over your shoulder.

“yeah, no shit. i’m scrubbing your pretty ass right now,” he replied casually, being particularly gentle on your cheeks.

smiling, you turned back around and reached for your cherry dew shampoo, pumping some into your hands. you lathered it up before sae stood up, holding your waist and lowering his head slightly so your fingers could reach his wet, reddish hair.

“smells like you,” he murmured as you massaged your shampoo into his scalp.

“good, you’ll think of me while you’re training.”

“i do that regardless.”

his words caught you off-guard, making you fumble slightly as you ruffled his hair. “r-right…” you stammered before quickly changing the subject. “—oh, i almost forgot, do you want to go outside? the weather’s nice.”

sae moved aside the damp strands of hair clinging to your skin and planted a light kiss on the side of your neck. “alright,”

as you followed him out of the enclosure, your wet foot accidentally slipped on the polished floor tiles. you panicked, squeezing your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the fall, but instead of hitting the solid floor, you felt a pair of strong hands catch you. sae steadied you and then handed you a towel to dry off.

“told you you’d manage to slip this time, too,” he added, slipping on his velvety, crimson robe with a smirk that only fueled your embarrassment.

“ugh…” you groaned as you wrapped yourself in your rose-gold robe. you looked up at him, then without a word, hugged him tightly. “carry me.”

he rolled his eyes, but you found yourself pressed up against his chest in less than a moment, his arms wrapped securely around you. your arms clung around his neck, and your legs linked tightly around his waist.

“why did i marry you, again?” he asked, pinching your side lightly.

you buried your face into the crook of his neck and he could feel you grin against his skin. “because you love me.”

“. . . unfortunately.”

𝜗𝜚 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍

“i thought i told you to get up,” rin grumbled, looming over the bed where you were cuddled comfortably under the duvet. “you’re lucky i’m even taking time out of my day to help you.”

you burrowed yourself deeper into the bed, pulling the duvet over your head to avoid his gaze. “i don’t want to move!” you protested, and even that subtle movement sent a sharp pain through your abdomen, making you wince at your cramps’ unbearable pain. “and besides, that's the bare minim–”

unimpressed, rin rolled his eyes and yanked the blanket off your face, gently lifting you up into his arms. your legs dangled over his elbows as he held you close. “i’ve already prepared the bath.” he said softly.

you tried to resist, throwing weak punches at his chest with your fists, but it was no use. you gave up and fell limp against his chest. the pain was too much, too uncomfortable, and the idea of being spoiled by your husband, even for a little while, was pretty tempting. 

still, you weren’t going to surrender completely without a fight. as you buried your face into his chest, an ominous smile tugged at your lips— a smile rin which knew all too well, one that made him visibly nervous. it was the kind of smile that meant you had something up your sleeve.

“i don’t know what you’re thinking of, but seriously, forget it,” he warned, eyeing you suspiciously. you responded by giving him an innocent kiss on the cheek, causing him to pause and narrow his turquoise eyes. “dammit.”

your husband set you down on the bathroom counter and began unbuttoning your floral pajama top, pulling it over your head. you gripped the edge of the counter for support, tipping your head back slightly as he leaned in to plant a soft kiss onto your neck. 

while rin busied himself with discarding the rest of your clothes, you slyly reached out and grabbed the white, gold-rimmed bin filled up with lotions, moisturizers, essential oils, and various other bath products. pretty normal, nothing suspicious so far. you peered into it, a giggle escaping your lips as you spotted this evening’s target: a bath bomb.

but this time, its colour was red.

“stop giggling at nothing, you weirdo,” he chided, scooping you carefully into his arms. his expression softened as he noticed how tightly your fingers gripped onto him, and the way your eyes squeezed shut in discomfort. “sorry, did that hurt?”

“n-no, i’m fine,” you reassured him. rin nodded, lowering you gently into the large, pre-prepared bath. it was just the way you liked it during your painful time of the month— warm, bordering on hot, with medium-sized bubbles floating on the surface.

“i’ll bring your favourite chocolate in a bit,” he said, gently lapping the water toward you before attempting to withdraw and leave. “call my name if you need anything, i’ll be outs— shit.”

it happened too fast for him to react. before he could finish his sentence, you grabbed his arm with whatever strength you had left and pulled him into the bath with you. he fell into the water with a loud splash, soaking him completely. for a hot moment, the bathroom was filled with awkward silence and the sound of water settling around you.

rin sat there, his stretchy navy shirt and black, knee-high shorts clinging to his body, drenched and dripping. he closed his eyes, one hand covering his face like a visor as he tried to calm himself. his other hand rested on the slippery surface of the tub for support.

you bit your lip, struggling to stifle a giggle as you crawled through the water towards him, pushing his knees apart so you could sit on his lap.

“i think it’s unfair that you still have your clothes on while i’m… y’know,” you pouted.

he threw you a glare, his hands gripping your waist as he tried to push you away, but you wouldn’t budge. “i fucking knew there was something wrong with your sudden obedience,” he scoffed, throwing his head back against the rim of the tub in surrender. you took the opportunity to hook your legs under his thighs and peel the shirt over his head.

“i’ll leave your shorts on…” you paused, raising an eyebrow suggestively. “—unless?”

“no.”

“yeah– thought so.”

settling against his chest, you felt his large hands move to rub berry blossom body wash into his palms. he placed both hands on your waist, sliding them up and down your sides before his fingers began tracing lazily patterns along your back.

you softly sighed and rested your chin on his upper chest, looking as blissful as ever. rin was almost tempted to lean down and kiss you until you were gasping for air, but you beat him to it. linking your arms around his neck, you slotted your mouth against his. he reciprocated, but not before pinching your side lightly, just enough to squirm in his grasp.

unbeknownst to him, however, your arm had slithered around and rummaged quietly through the white bin until it found a soft, round object. you smiled against his mouth, then subtly dropped the red bath bomb into the water with a quiet splash.

“f-fuck…” you whimpered suddenly, breaking the kiss and clutching your stomach as your face contorted—eyes squinting—in feigned pain.

rin’s brows furrowed in confusion, and he instinctively adjusted his position to grip onto your shoulders in concern. “what’s wrong? you okay?”

you didn’t respond, instead blinking up at him with half-closed eyes once, then twice, before letting your eyelids slip shut and beginning to breathe softly.

“y/—” one could say his heart practically stopped beating at that moment, his eyes widening as he watched the water around you cloud with a sweet cherry red dye. it also definitely did not help that you decided it was a good idea to fall limp onto his chest, though you were clearly breathing normally.

was your monthly bleeding supposed to be this excessive?

“w-what the fuck!” he fretted in horror as he shook your shoulders forcefully, his hand trembling as he patted your cheek, trying to get you to meet his gaze. your eyes were bleary, yet they still had their usual shine. “is this fucking normal? are you going to bleed to death? should i call for help–??”

over the course of your marriage, you had never seen rin panic like this. in the ten-plus years of knowing him, this was the first time you’d witnessed him so completely consumed by worry for you. typically, rin kept his emotions under control, reacting subtly to any situation. but now, as the vivid colour surrounded you both, you could see the raw concern surfacing on his face.

of course, a large part of you felt guilty— wondering if maybe you’d gone a tad bit too far this time. the last thing you wanted was for him to fall ill or lose focus during his next game because of the stress you caused.

unable to hold it back any longer, you let out the laugh you’d been suppressing, and rin’s expression immediately shifted from panic to deadpan. like, literally. immediately. just that stupid giggle of yours was all it took for him to realize he had managed to fall for one of your traps yet again— this time, in the most ridiculous way possible.

he simply stood up without a word and kicked the lumpy, fizzing bath bomb away. then, with water dripping down his tight-to-skin shorts, he stepped out of the tub.

“wait, rin—” you called out from behind, your hands gripping the rim of the tub as you tried to sit up.

he glanced over his shoulder with an unreadable expression as he dried himself with a towel. you noticed the faint pink tint on his cheeks, likely from the lingering embarrassment and panic. after all, even if your bleeding had been heavy, there was no way the dye would’ve been that saturated in such a large tub.

“...i’m going to say this one more time,” he said calmly, “call me if you need anything or if you want to leave the tub so i can bathe you,” he walked slowly back to you, bending down until his face was close to yours.

“i’m sor–” you started to apologize, but he cut you off.

“and one more thing,” he added, cupping your face gently in his hands. “you scared me to death, you fool. i fucking love you. don’t do that again.”

before you could respond, he sealed his lips against yours. it was safe to say you decided then and there that you wouldn’t pull that particular prank again— at least, not without the promise that he’d shower with you as part of the deal, of course.

𝜗𝜚 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

friday had finally arrived– the long-awaited end to an exhausting week. to you, it usually meant you had all the time in the world to pamper yourself and indulge in self-care. heavy emphasis on usually, because unfortunately, this wasn’t always the case when you had an extremely insufferable (but annoyingly loveable) husband.

if there was one thing kaiser excelled at— besides hurling terrifyingly creative insults at people he barely knew and dominating the football field— it was his nonstop teasing.

you stepped into your spacious master bathroom with a soft towel embroidered with delicate begonia patterns tucked snugly under your arm. your shoulders felt unbearably stiff, and your back throbbed with ache. the thought of dipping your leg into the hot, bubbly bath you had prepared earlier was quite literally the only thing keeping you upright.

finally, your body made contact with the euphoric warmth as you lowered yourself into the wide, glossy marble bathtub positioned near the window. the heat of the water instantly began to soothe your sore muscles, and you let out a content sigh, leaning back against the built-in backrest.

oh, it was going to be so relaxing. would have been, if kaiser hadn’t suddenly barged into the washroom without so much as a courtesy knock— though knowing him, you doubted he even considered such things. the sudden intrusion made you flinch and pulled you out of the comfortable state you’d just begun to enjoy.

“knock before you enter, stupid,” you snapped, shooting him a glare as you sank deeper into the frothy water until only the top half of your head peeked out.

kaiser shut the door behind him and stood there practically naked. your eyes trailed down the path of pearly beads of water that teasingly trickled down his toned chest with no shame. the white cotton towel that hung loosely around his waist threatened to unravel and reveal what’s hidden beneath with the slightest blow of the wind.

“you’re really soaking in here all by yourself after i told you i wanted to join you, prinzessin?” he rolled his eyes, but with no real irritation in his voice as he sauntered toward you. his fingers deftly unhooked the towel from his waist, nonchalantly tossing it into the hamper.

you pushed yourself back up, fingers gripping the edge of the bathtub for support before wiping your face with your palms, water droplets sliding down your cheeks. raising a brow, you asked, “mihya– are you seriously planning to get in even after you’ve clearly just showered?”

you watched as he slipped into the tub, settling in front of you. his head leaned back against the cool marble edge, arms casually draped along the sides of the bathtub.

“that was just the rinse i always take after football practice,” he explained lazily, “is it really so terrible to want to bathe with my beautiful wife?”

you let out an exaggerated sigh, trying to hide the smile that was tugging at the corners of your lips from his compliment– though he tended to throw that one your way frequently.

“you’re so annoying,” you laughed, slowly crawling across the slippery surface of the tub toward him. your hands settled on his broad shoulders as you guided yourself onto his bare lap. “now i don’t even have room to stretch my legs.”

his tattooed hand, adorned with the blue crown, came to rest on your waist. though, unfortunately, you were oblivious to the subtle movement of his other hand, instead nestling your head against his chest.

it felt so serene— until it wasn’t.

seriously, what could possibly go wrong while you’re comfortably straddling your husband’s lap, eyes sewn shut, head on his chest as you try to continue your weekly post-work relaxation session?

apparently, everything.

in an instant, a jolt of freezing cold water slammed onto your back, each drop hitting you like a small brick. your eyes flew open and a loud gasp was drawn from you as you shot upright, instinctively scrambling away from him. you nearly slipped on the slick surface in the process as you tried to escape the showerhead above you. who thought it was a good idea to combine a bathtub with a shower, anyway?

“michael!” you whined, seeking warmth under the foamy blanket of sea. “that was cruel…”

he grinned, reaching over to turn off the water, which had started to drench him, too.

“sorry, meine liebe,” he cooed, moving to your side and pressing a gentle, almost apologetic kiss to your trembling shoulders. “i heard cold water’s great for sore muscles.”

“you and i both know that’s not why you did it,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

he raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer until your cheek pressed against his chest.

“hmm. well, you know, if i’m feeling generous, i might give you a life-changing massage or even treat you to your favourite food if y—”

“life-ending massage, you mean. you nearly crushed my bones last time– i literally felt my soul leaving my body.” you paused for emphasis before adding, “and i'm getting my food without any ‘ifs’.”

he chuckled and stood up with a smirk, the water sliding off his exposed body as he stepped out of the tub. he grabbed his simple towel and slung it over his shoulder before glancing back at you.

“fine, but i won’t order anything– i’ll cook.”

your heart sank. his cooking was nothing short of life-threatening.

“god, please, no!”

𝜗𝜚 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐎

“sorry, sweetheart, let me just…” reo murmured, draping a silky, red fabric over your eyes, tying it securely behind your head. “there we go, baby. can you see anything?”

“no, reo,” you replied with a small shake of your head as your hand hovered uncertainly in the air, searching for his. 

a soft laugh escaped his lips before reaching out to thread his fingers in your hand. you could only weakly map out every subtle turn in your mind as he led you somewhere in your mansion. finally, he came to a stop, causing you to bump into his firm back.

your toes flexed and unflexed, feeling the plush carpet beneath you. the texture was familiar, and you quickly recognized that he had brought you to the grand bathroom adjacent to the balcony on the upper level of your mansion.

“ready?” he asked, the double doors creaking softly as he opened them. he turned back to you, fingers curling around your wrist, pulling you in. “i’m taking your blindfold off, sweetheart.”

as the velvety fabric slipped off and fluttered noiselessly to the carpet, your eyes widened in awe. a gasp escaped past your parted, plump lips as you took in the almost surreal sight in front of you.

“baby, you didn’t have to…”

you entered the large, steamy room and the warmth of the automatically heated floor, immediately seeped into your feet. in the corner of the washroom, the jacuzzi tub was filled to the brim with fluffy clouds of white foam, and was decorated with delicate red rose petals scattered everywhere like confetti. and to make things even more romantic, vanilla-scented candles were lit on the flat edges of the tub.

your gaze shifted to a small glass table beside the tub, where a bubble machine quietly hummed classical music and released shimmering bubbles into the air. 

“do you like it?” his voice interrupted your silent admiration, and you quickly turned around, a sheepish smile spreading across your face. you locked your arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“i… i love it,” you whispered. your eyes wafted back toward the jacuzzi and you moved toward it. “thank you, reo.”

he smiled, a gentle curve of his lips that reached his eyes as he rested a reassuring hand on your shoulder. his fingers began to work from behind, unzipping the back of your fitted dress and pulling the delicate material down. “anything for my favourite lady.”

the cool air soon kissed your bare skin; dress and undergarments neatly folded by reo and set aside in the walk-in closet adjoining the bathroom. heat rose to your cheeks as you stood there, exposed. though he had seen you naked countless times before, it had always managed to leave you flustered.

your head hung low, eyes fixed down on the marble tiles beneath you as you crossed your arms over your chest, each hand on the opposite shoulder.

he noticed your bashful demeanor and chuckled softly. his hands found their place on your waist, and he bent down slightly to press slow, sweet kisses along your collarbone. you stared down at him lovingly, hands coming up to card through his soft, amethyst hair. the feeling of his lips trailing across your skin made your breath hitch, and when planted a singular, feather-light kiss on the bottom curve of your breast, your eyes fluttered shut. he straightened up to properly look at you, a grin playing at his lips.

“what, you nervous?” he teased, ruffling your hair affectionately. “smile for me, yeah? my beautiful angel.”

you opened your eyes, looking at him shyly. “stop it… you’re embarrassing me.”

he rolled his eyes playfully, his fingers reaching up to loosen his tie when you suddenly stopped him.

“i’m going to undress you.” you stated firmly, your fingers already skillfully loosening the silky tie and sliding it over his head before beginning to work on the black buttons of his suit.

“t-that’s…” his voice faltered, and he could not suppress the rosy pink tint from spreading across his pale cheeks. the sight of your focused expression– your squinted, dreamy eyes and the way your lips tucked under your teeth as you undid his clothing left him flustered.

it made his heart swell from the overwhelming realization of how much he loved you. how had he gotten so lucky, he wondered, to be with someone as lovely and gentle as you, let alone marry you?

“there, all done!” you exclaimed with a satisfied smile as you gave his firm abs a gentle pat.

“i’m going to make you undress me every single time now, no complaints,” he chuckled, grabbing your hand and helping you into the jacuzzi. the two of you settled beside each other, sinking into the rose-petal-littered, bubbly water.

reo pulled you in closer to him until your bodies were nuzzled together, aligned inch-to-inch. he let out a deep, relaxed sigh, about to throw his head back when he noticed you scooping up a handful of foamy water mixed with a few rose petals, the water seeping from between the gaps of your fingers.

you gave him a cheeky grin as you hovered your hands above his head and released the blooms, letting them fall delicately onto his hair.

he laughed and plucked a petal from his head, pressing it near your collarbone until it stuck. “sorry, gorgeous, but these petals look much better on you,”

he leaned in and pecked your soft lips. one by one, he began to pick up individual petals, carefully sticking each one all over your body, as if adorning you with pretty rubies. his lips followed each placement, planting a tender kiss on every petal he laid on your skin. the whole time, he maintained eye contact with you, those half-lidded orchid eyes making the blood rush rapidly to your cheeks.

satisfied, he reached over and picked up a nearby moveable silver-rimmed mirror and handed it to you, showing you your petal-covered body.

“see? aren’t you just the prettiest?”

𝜗𝜚 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈

“sei, i’m serious— if you fall asleep one more time, i’ll leave you in the tub alone,” you warned almost seriously, patting his cheek gently to rouse him. his heavy eyelids fluttered, and you could see the sleep creeping back as he began to slip beneath the water again.

the giant of a man’s broad back was pressed firmly against your chest as your fingers worked their mystique across his fatigued muscles. you kneaded at his shoulders, and fisted at his back, pressing his muscles gently. it wasn’t that he was sore– no. this had become a habit, something he looked forward to after a draining football practice or game.

your massages were the best of the best, his personal heaven, the kind that always managed to lull him to the brink of sleep. he had tried numerous massages from professional masseuses before you two got married, but none could ever compare to the sorcery of your hands.

“noo, i’ll drownnn…” his voice was a whine slurred with sleep. he blinked his bleary eyes before lazily readjusting his position. 

“then wake up! you’re heavier when you’re sleeping!” you scolded, poking at his shoulders.

“’kay…” he muttered, but you knew better. as expected, no sooner had he mumbled his agreement than his eyes clamped shut again, his head nodding forward. you grunted softly and wiggled out from under him, carefully removing his weight from your lap.

with some effort, you managed to move your husband, pulling him upright so he could be seated properly against the cool, black granite wall of the pool.

“hmph,” you huffed, shoving your hand underwater before splashing his sleepy face with a huge wave of water. he flinched awake and nearly lost his footing on the slippery pool floor, his hands shooting out to hold onto the edge to steady himself. “you asked for it, dummy.”

he groaned and rubbed his face with a grumpy expression. “y’play so unfairly, baby,” he muttered. his long arm reached out and, before you could react, grabbed your wrist, effortlessly pulling you against his chest. your hands were suddenly pressed against his sculpted abdomen. his large hands cupped your cheeks gently, tilting your head to the left, then the right, then back again as if inspecting you.

“hm, something’s different ‘bout you,” he mused, burying his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent with a satisfied hum. “ah. new shampoo…?” he leaned back slightly, comically raising his head to the crystal chandelier above, as if deep in thought. “strawberry elixir?”

your eyes widened in surprise. if there was one thing that amazed you about nagi, it was his uncanny observance despite his notorious laziness. you had bought the expensive shampoo just a few days ago and only today had you used it for the first time, when you showered before entering the bath.

it may be the sort of detail people would quickly notice but perhaps that was the special privilege he granted to the person he loved. for you, he gave you the rare gift of his focused attention.

you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head in amusement. leaning in, you pressed a long kiss to his lips, which he lazily reciprocated. “that’s not going to make me forgive you, you know,” you murmured against his mouth, though your smile betrayed the truth.

he groaned, shifting his gaze to the scented oil bottles lined along the rim of the hot tub. without much thought, he blinked slowly and shrugged, reaching for the bottle labeled lavender dream. carelessly, he poured the entire contents into the water, the strong fragrance immediately filling the bathroom.

“nagi!” you cried, eyes wide in horror. “you don’t just add oil directly to water! they won’t mix!”

he paused, staring at the tiny droplets of oil floating on the surface before glancing down at the guilty-looking empty bottle in his hands. “oh. you’re right.”

“don’t just–!”

“uh… i have an idea,” he muttered, calmly ruffling your hair. you watched as he pushed himself up and out of the hot tub (you’re amazed he took the initiative to do something himself) and walked to the controller wall, completely unbothered by the fact he was butt-naked.

at the click of one rectangular button, the jets at the bottom of the tub immediately activated and powerful streams of water began to come from underneath, kneading at your muscles.

a delightful sigh left your lips as nagi slid back beside you, wrapping his muscular arms around your waist from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“see, baby?” he murmured, trailing his fingers over the water, feeling the water ripple over his skin. “the oil’ll disappear sooner or later, m’kay?”

you nodded your head, slightly but not fully convinced. you turned around to hug him, closing your eyes. “sure… but i’ll just use one of the guest bathrooms if it doesn’t.”

“we’ll.” 

he added too quickly for a man like him. he needed your massages after all– not the jets which, while comforting, did not come close enough to the way your hands worked.

you rolled your eyes playfully and smiled, “yes, yes, together.”

just then, the large television mounted on the porcelain-tiled wall turned on, drawing your attention. you turned your head to find nagi waving the remote with a subtle grin.

“wanna watch a movie and cuddle?”

𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗘 𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀 and baths go so well together because they are so silly. you can always find him at the shower control panel, playing with the settings until the outline of the tub glowed in ethereal colours of topaz and quartz and emerald.

also, the bath would inevitably become a sea of yellow rubber duckies because he thinks they're cute and they match his hair! he does leave the cleanup to you, though :(

besides, this man would be so indecisive when it comes to water temperature. one minute it’s icy cold, the next it’s scorching hot, only to swing to cold again because, well, he felt like it! the two of you would end up dancing in the water like goofs, splashing and kicking at each other because no one is watching you in your private yard– but you’re sure he’d do it in front of many eyes anyway.

one of his favourite games is to try and carry you on his back as he swims around the tub. despite your repeated warnings that he’d sink under the combined weight, he’d insist on trying, each attempt failing worse than the previous.

but the best part? even though you’re both naked, baths and showers with him were about anything but sexual. he sees you naked– okay? lovely! let’s see who could hold their breath the longest underwater.

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[artyandink]

hyperthermia

Summary: Based on a request by @yinorathedragontamer. You needed a break from hunting, so you didn’t go on the latest one, but found you needed something to occupy your time. Just your luck that the Winchesters happened to return home when you were washing Baby, and you caught the eye of a certain someone.

A/N - Banners in use by @cafekitsune, first entry for Jensen-A-Thon!

TW: Set in S9 (so hot, scruffy Dean guys), and blatant checking out/fantasising

Want to request something? Drop a message in my ask box!

Want to join my Dean Winchester (or any other Jensen character) taglist? Go to my main master list and find the Forms link!

Dean and Sam ambled back into the bunker, duffel bags carried by their taut arms like they’d done a million times before, so what should be a bag of bricks was a feather. Dean swept his hand over his mouth while Sam’s went through his hair, both ready to crash from the wear and tear of the hunt.

“I swear, m’ready to goddamn pass out.” Dean chuckled, nails scratching over the scruff that had grown on his cheek. He’d been hit a few times - not enough to cause bruises and whatnot - hard enough to cause fatigue once the adrenaline of the fight was used and faded.

Sam could only grunt in agreement, trying to rub the effects of a long drive from Oregon out of his eyes, paired it’s the disgruntlement of having to listen to rock tracks in the car. “You and me both. But hey, we should at least visit-”

“Roger that.” Dean cut Sam off before he could finish, in search of you. You were always a sight for sore eyes after a hunt, no matter what you were dressed in or if you were covered in blood; he enjoyed the vision that you were. More than he cared to admit.

He checked your bedroom, but he only found an unusually neat bed and a clean room, which was a rare occurrence for you and had him thinking that you were kidnapped, which prompted him to take out his gun.

You never did up your bed.

He crept through the hall, hoping to the good God that his boots didn’t squeak, but then familiar humming of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ caught the attention of his ears, originating from the garage. Followed by his arrival there, where he spotted you. And it wasn’t only just the sight of you that had him standing up straight.

You, in nothing but a soaked through plaid shirt tucked into some tight denim shorts, the sleeves of the plaid rolled up to your elbows and drawing his attention to your pretty hands. Hair damp and falling just right and had him biting his lip and fighting off the urge to ruin your friendship entirely. Droplets of water running down your neck, that damn sexy curve of your slightly bent legs and trailing beneath the v-shaped neckline that the collar of your shirt made that he was starting to think was made on purpose to make him go insane.

The image was too damn sinful. And he was suddenly not so tired and ‘ready to goddamn pass out’, more like licking his lips and biting the bottom one as he folded his arms over his chest. Eyes trained on you. Yeah, not so tuckered out anymore and ready to catch the full nine.

His bed can go to hell, he wanted you pinned against the bonnet of his Baby, legs spread wide so he could fit in between and show you how much he appreciated the job well-goddamn-done. Did he mention you were washing Baby? Probably not, he was too distracted with the way your hips were swaying as you stepped to cover another part of his beloved Impala with soap suds that then trickled down your own body and made your attire that much more see through and you that much more delicious.

Holy Jesus of Nazareth, you were giving his self control a run for its money. And his self control was likely to lose the money and go bankrupt if he wasn’t distracted pronto.

Wait- but why was he objectifying you? You were doing him a solid by cleaning the other girl of his dreams, why the hell would he think about your legs like that? And your body clearly outlined by the wet, clingy material of your shirt that he was starting to feel jealous of because he wanted to be that close to you.

No. Bad Dean.

He licked his lips again, his hips shifting slightly as he fought a clearing of his throat in case it’d alert you of his presence. His mossy eyes trained so precisely on you, it’d probably let you know he was there anyway, heat radiating from his gaze.

He didn’t want to think about the curve of that pretty neck. Or the way it’d feel under his lips.

Neither did he want to think about those delicate hands - that he knew were tough as hell - holding the sponge that was lathering up his Baby. Or the way they’d feel working his - nope, too far.

Definitely not the way the shirt looked like it now had to be peeled off your skin to reveal the treasure underneath, because god-holy-damn he had managed to catch a glimpse of black lace underneath that plaid. He’d happily unwrap you like a frickin’ present and it wasn’t even Christmas for about six months.

“Damn, pretty girl.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair that was begging to let his feet walk over, grab your hip and pull you into him so he could lick up your neck to collect all the water droplets running down them. What he wouldn’t give to just pop the button on those shorts, get to his knees and work you until his tongue ached.

Right there. Right-frickin’-there. Against his Baby-

“Pretty girl? That’s what we’re calling her now?” Sam muttered into his ear with a snort, not loud enough for you to hear as you bent over Baby’s bonnet in just the right way to have Dean’s eyes sliding down to that gorgeous ass framed in those shorts that should damn well be illegal.

Dean was snapped partially out of his thoughts, left embarrassed and disgruntled and somewhat still ogling that God-blessed ass before he followed Sam through the halls, the latter of which was sporting a smug smirk. “H-Hey, I was just-”

Sam raised his hands in surrender with a small laugh, looking back to Dean knowingly. “Hey, if you wanna check out her ass, do it at your own risk.”

“I wasn’t checking out her…” Dean got an image of it again and smirked slightly, jerking his head to the side, “yeah, maybe I was, so what? Can you blame me? That thing’s-”

Sam held up a finger, shivering in borderline discomfort as his mind filled the blank. “I’m gonna TMI you before you say it.”

“I’m just sayin’, I’m a man. I have needs, where a female who’s a badass hunter and also happens to be gorgeous and also happens to live with us is concerned. And it’s worse when she’s handlin’ my Baby.” He gave Sam a sheepish grin, but the younger Winchester only shook his head in mock disapproval, grabbing the duffel with his pyjamas.

“I’m going to bed.”

“You do that.” Dean grabbed his own duffel, heading to his room which, to his luck, passed the garage and you working on the car. You managed to lock eyes with him, and you gave him a cheery wave. He returned it, and as you turned, his eyes slid down to the curve of your ass again, eyebrows pumping once as a smirk stretched his pouty lips.

“I’ll see you in my dreams, sweetheart.” He muttered before he disappeared off to his bedroom to live his fantasy.

Meanwhile, you dried your face and neck off with a chuckle, going back to your room to change into some get into some drier and more comfortable clothing with a smug smirk on your face.

You’d noticed Dean through Baby’s newly cleaned mirror that you could probably sing ‘Reflection’ from Mulan in. His eyes taking you in and licking his lips like you were the latest snack he wanted to devour. His hands itching to touch you, his mind going blank when you pushed out your ass on purpose in order to catch his attention.

That was just phase one of your multi-step plan to strip Dean Winchester of his self control where you were concerned.

“Mission accomplished.” You muttered under your breath with a giggle.

I’d really appreciate feedback, loves! Have a great day!

TAGLIST: @k-slla @hobby27

[scoutswritingcorner]

Omf how about a fix where asthmas antlers fall off and reader collects it and puts it on the cat version of him for shits and giggles

An Angry Deer and New Horns

Cursed Cat Alastor 

FT. Alastor x GN!Reader

TW: Alastor being angry, Antlers shedding.

Alastor growled and groaned as you helped get the velvet off of his old horns, jacket thrown on his armchair and his shirt unbuttoned as sweat had stuck to his skin. Placing the tools down on your lap, you grabbed the rag from the small bowl of cold water that was seated next to Alastor on the ground. Ringing the extra water out of the rag before carefully wiping his head and neck. Before small tip taps made its presence known causing Alastor to growl, “..how did the cat get in here?” He whispered out leaning his head back into you. You hummed feeling as the cat climbed up on the chair staring at you before Alastor letting out an audible laugh from a laugh track. One that seemed like it had come from his cane, Alastor snarled, going to stand up shakily, a loud static echoing around the room.

You carefully grabbed his hands guiding him to sit back down, “Relax Al, he just wants to get under your skin.” You whispered, allowing him to get comfortable once more before you leaned down and kissed his head. He let out a grunt, as you grabbed the tools once more. “Just pay attention to me, Dear.” He closed his eyes, holding onto your leg once more. The laughter became louder before stopping as a soft hiss was heard, a small paw tapping your shoulder. You glanced towards the cat who tapped your shoulder more letting a louder hiss, “Hold on..let me help Alastor with his horns” Finishing with his velvet you carefully grabbed the rag to wash away the blood that had dripped down his face. Alastor grunted out as he snapped his fingers, taking his shirt off completely as he leaned into your hands. “Just relax okay? It’s over.” You whispered out before focusing on the cat who had now made its way to lay half its body on your shoulder.

Your hand reached up to carefully pet its head as a static like purr had escaped its throat. As your other hand had scratched between his horns carefully, as his breathing had slowly evened out, his head lulling to the side as he slowly fell asleep against you. You sit back on the chair letting out a yawn but stay awake to keep an eye over Alastor to make sure nothing happens especially when he is in a vulnerable state. You turn your attention back to the cursed cat in your lap who was once again laying down loaf style.

As your hand scratched at Alastor’s head your fingers knocked up against one of his antlers, causing him to jump in his sleep and huffed before the antler had fallen off onto your lap which had landed on the poor cat. A soft hiss escaped the cat before it focused on the door staring off into space, you snickered and picked up the fallen antler before slowly putting it against the cat’s head, “Double the antlers~” you whispered out, causing the cat to look up at you. Giving you a look of ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ and a mixture of amusement.

You looked away for one moment and in that one movement you felt the antlers get ripped out of your hand, the little pitter patter of tiny paws running towards the closed and locked door. You cursed and hissed knowing if you moved to get up Alastor would wake up in a grumpy mood. Alastor’s shadow moved towards the door quickly stopping the cat in its tracks of trying to escape, moving it back towards the chair you were sitting on. You reached down and scooped the cat up, making it drop the antlers in return and holding it up into the air. “You’re in air jail now.” you whispered, causing it to growl and hiss out, swiping it’s paws at you in protest.

~~ 

It was a couple hours later when Alastor had woken up, shaking his head and grumbling at how his head started to feel more light- he reached up and noticed that he didn’t have horns. His eyes glanced over how you were slouched down in the armchair softly snoring away, he slowly got up to pick you up and move you into the bed that sat in your room. He stopped seeing how the cat was shaking and hissing in anger, static sounding from it. 

His smile grew thin as he let out an evil chuckle, seeing as his now fallen off horns were taped to this cat’s head. His neck snapped to the side as loud static echoed through the room. “...now what do we have here?” He growled out moving closer to the cat that stepped further into the corner drool dripping from its grin, “A thief are we? First you steal my darling doe’s affection and now you steal my antlers?"

He growled and looked back down at you before chuckling deeply, “I guess this is a punishment for being a thief,” He said picking you up and holding your sleeping body close as he moved you from the armchair to your bed easily. He snapped his fingers, his shirt back on his torso as he fixed the buttons on it, his gaze returning to the cat standing shaking in anger. He shook his head, his ears flickering as he moved towards the armchair he had silently claimed as his own. 

He grabbed his book and crossed his legs as he began reading, unaffected by the fact the cat was glaring at him from across the room.

[redflagshipwriter]

batmom cass: reveal

masterpost

Oh. Fuck. He was invisible. A flood of genuine fear washed through him. He was discovered again, he was away from any allies, he had to get away-

Danny went intangible out of sheer survival instinct and lurched downwards. Bruce made a punched-out sound and lunged to grab him. He actually got his hand around Danny’s wrist and clenched despite Danny being invisible to human eyes. It was no use. Danny slipped through his grip, the chair, and then the floor.

He caught himself there and paused, hovering in the flooring. He could see the weird joints underneath the kitchen, a dark crawl space with way more spiders than Alfred could possibly know about. One of them reared up and waved its front legs at him in what was either a threat or a greeting. Danny shuddered involuntarily and pulled back a little to give the arachnid personal space.

“Danny?” Cass’s voice was muffled but calm. “Sit in your chair, please.”

She made it sound so sensible.

He blinked rapidly. “Right. Right, okay.” He floated back up through the floor and avoided eye contact as he settled back into place and the visible spectrum. He stole a glance around the room. Cass and Damian looked unaffected. Bruce’s face said the same, but the pulse point was jumping rapidly in his throat. His hand was pressed firmly against his thigh as if to remind him that it was a physical thing that existed.

“This GIW is harmful to you?” Damian asked, sensible and unaffected. He pushed his empty yoghurt away a few inches on the tabletop. “I gather from the acronym that we are dealing with an organization rather than an individual.”

“....Yeah.” Danny gripped his knees under the table and clung to the hint of normalcy. If they were going to act like that hadn’t been weird, then maybe he was okay. “I think they’re government affiliated. They say they are. They, uh.” He cleared his throat. “They’re the Ghost Investigation Ward, but I call them the Guys in White.”

“And they are a problem because?” Damian asked crisply. Cass was watching with the full force of her formidable attention, but it wasn’t a heavy gaze. 

Danny forced himself to stop fidgeting. “Well, I might have died a little.” It came out as a question. “And they’re not sure it’s me- at least, they weren’t, but I guess that they are now.” Oof, that was hard to internalize. Of course they did. Now that they knew about Vlad, they had all the pieces to put it together. His parents had definitely put it together. The look on Mom’s face when she saw him hauling Vlad out of the lab…

He felt cold. Danny rubbed at his thighs as if that would help. 

There hadn’t been another choice. It ate at him a little bit that Danny had thrown his life away for someone he didn’t even like, but what else could he have done? Vlad was Vlad, yeah, but Danny couldn’t have left anyone there. 

Bruce had a look that Danny had never seen on him before. Intense. Focused. Dangerous. Danny instinctively pulled away from it, sitting all the way up in his chair. 

Bruce wiped it away, but the memory still sent Danny’s blood rushing. Ecto gathered in his mouth like saliva, his body readying to fight for his life. He swallowed it down with difficulty. 

“As you said,” Cass interjected. She scooted her chair a little closer to him and laid an arm along his shoulders. “Like Jason.” She rubbed at his upper arm. He leaned into her touch. 

“Like Jason,” Bruce echoed. His tone was hollow.

Danny ducked his head and missed the meaningful look that Cass shot her BatDad. 

“What are their capabilities?” Damian pushed. His dark eyes glittered when Danny looked back at him. “You clearly have invisibility and density shifting. Are they able to counter you?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Danny blinked rapidly to try to force himself to focus. This was… so weird. Someone had found out about him and he wasn’t fighting for his life. Even his friends had found out when he was actively under fire from a ghost. His nervous system didn’t know what to do with this. He cleared his throat. “They have a lot of tech, uh.” He flexed his hands. “From my parents.” He stared at the woodgrain on the table. It was probably real wood and not the heavy duty polymer that the Fenton table was made out of. “They’re not exactly competent, but there’s a lot of them, and they have had some success.”

His stomach lurched. He swallowed hard on bile. He didn’t think about what he’d found when he went after Vlad. He didn’t think about Vlad in his human form, strapped down and incisions pinned open, literal pins holding open his torso and skin layers on his arms. He didn’t think about the quietly despairing hums coming from rows of ghost cores on a shelf, neatly labeled with specimen numbers. 

“Let’s walk.” Cass hustled him up and muscled him down the hall without letting go of her comforting grip. Danny went along with it numbly. But she was kinda right. Moving shook him out of his head. The walls were changing around him, curtains and windows and framed portraits and some of Tim’s photography. They passed a room he had never seen before. Cass pushed the door open, let him look around, and then tugged him down the hall before he’d had time to do more than catalogue the novelty. 

She did that at the next door, too. Oh. An impromptu tour. The novelty of seeing new things started to drag him back to the real world, right now, which was not exactly a fight for his life.

At the third door, Danny managed, “Does anyone play that piano?”

Cass made a mysterious hum. It took her a while to unstick her tongue. “Damian can. Jason, if you ask with big eyes.” 

Danny nodded at this information. Damian did seem like the kind of person who would hone a few classic artistic skills. And Jason was manipulable, good information.

…Not that Danny would need much help there. He felt a little sheepish at how threatened he’d felt earlier when he remembered the sincerity and protectiveness he could sense from both Cass and Jason.  

“What should we do about GIW?” Cass broached the topic, as if she knew that he felt better. She probably did know. “Investigate cautiously? Destroy?” She held up two fingers to count off the ‘destroy the GIW’ options. “Horde of lawyers descend from Wayne Enterprises jet, or Justice League?”

Danny snorted. It turned into a laugh, hysterical and too long. He wiped tears away from his eyes. “Personally, I like the idea of blowing up their base,” he admitted. “But someone should rescue the test subjects first.”

“Oh?”

Cass was so weirdly easy to talk to. He leaned a little harder against her. She wasn’t a big woman, but there was something so solid about her anyway. It must be a Black Bat thing. “I left because I was getting someone out,” he admitted. “They were a lot more captives than I knew about.” He squeezed his free hand to ground himself. “I grabbed as many as I could and tossed them through the portal, but I don’t know if that was everyone or if just being home let them heal up.” 

Hell, maybe someone had come along and eaten all the helpless cores. Danny shied away from the horror of that thought. His intuition had identified the helpless ghost cores as viable ectoplasm, healing and delicious. They were scared at his approach because they sensed him, they knew they were helpless shells to crack open and lick out the sweet marrow–

Ah. Yup. He stopped in his tracks and heaved his snack onto the carpet.

[neckromantics]

Astarion loves to take baths with you.

It's one of his favorite ways to spend his downtime in general, honestly. Not only is the bath such a soothing place to be (you know once this man has the option, he's going to splurge on a vast collection of luxury soaps, oils, hair masks, and body scrubs- the list goes on.), but there's just something about it that makes him feel so normal? Mortal, almost.

If he lets himself soak just long enough, the heat from the water begins to nullify the vampiric chill that he's grown ever so used to. It's a pleasant warmth that works its way past pale skin- past tired muscles and aching sinew- and settles down deep into his very bones. For a few precious moments, he can convince himself that the eternal discomfort of undeath has made off for good this time.

And his hair always looks spectacular after wash day. It's a win-win scenario for him. So for his favorite person to be involved as well? Well, that just makes it all the more better.

-

This time, you're lounging on the floor nearby as he soaks- having stuck around after washing his hair for him as he oh-so-kindly requested of you. He's still a bit new at asking for small acts of kindness, so of course, you jumped at the chance to put your hands to good use. You were so careful not to catch your fingers on any snags as you worked a sweet-smelling soap through his wet curls, nails scrubbing away at his scalp even after it's all rinsed away just to hear him purr for you.

You're leaning against the bath, cheek cushioned against your forearm as it rests along the edge. The other swirls idly in the water- kept heated by clever use of prestidigitation (you'd recently picked up this cantrip for purposes such as this) and softened by the finest oils stolen gold could purchase. The curtains in your room are carefully drawn, and although your source of light comes from the multitude of candles scattered about, it's still enough to see the nice flush the heat brings to his skin. It's a little odd to see him so pinkened, and obviously, you can't help but stare no matter how hard you try not to.

It's the blood- your blood- that's pooling beneath the surface of his skin and giving him this radiance that many a man would covet.

Rose blooms a pretty bouquet on the smooth skin of his chest, up the length of his bared throat as he rests his head, and even reaches the tips of the pointy ears you so adore. Gods, even his knuckles are pinker when he reaches a hand out of the water to push his hair away from his forehead, and your gaze immediately follows the trail of soapy water as it glides down his wrist- drip-drops from his elbow and back into the bath.

Astarion looks so... peaceful like this.

Pale lashes rest upon warm cheeks as he reclines, face fallen soft, similar to how it does when he's deep in trance. A part of you wonders if this is how he might have looked back some two hundred years ago, before the affliction that was bestowed upon him by his old (now deceased, you celebrate mentally) master.

Eyes of ruby open just a crack, and you know that smug smile is coming before his lips so much as twitch.

"You know, my dear, most people consider staring to be rather rude." He purrs.

You're proud to say you don't miss a beat.

"Good thing you're nothing like most people then, hm?" Quick wit- a developing side effect from the many days spent traveling with the cheekiest rogue in all of Faerûn.

Quick as you may be– he is quicker. 

"Ah, right you are. Most people aren't nearly as beautiful as I am– one can hardly blame you for all of your slack-jawed gawping."

A half-huffed laugh is pulled out of you. Astarion loves to pretend he isn't just as delighted by your glossy-eyed admiring as he is amused.

And here you are again, suddenly distracted by the slightest bounce of silver curls when he tilts his head to watch your smile hit your eyes. His hair looks a bit longer when it's weighed down by bathwater and conditioning oils, almost to the point where some bits just barely brush his shoulders. You're so mesmerized that you have to touch him. The hand that's been playing in the water comes up to brush a few nearly translucent hairs away from where they've stuck to the curve of his neck, lingering afterward to carefully trace a finger down to his collarbone as you continue your oggle-fest.

Only just a moment longer, you tell yourself, and then you'll leave him be.

Yet, he doesn't let you pull away too far when you've finished. A deft hand comes up from the depths to capture yours the second you think about leaving him to his privacy, and you nearly jump at the unfamiliar temperature of its grasp.

He's warm.

Almost warmer than you, and it's honestly kind of jarring.

Astarion's still sporting that smile, although a bit kinder than before. If you weren't watching so closely, you'd miss how his eyes flash, uncharacteristically shy for just a moment before that heavy-lidded stare is set back in place. He brings your joined hands up to his mouth, petal-soft lips resting against the damp heel of your palm in a not-so-kiss.

They press for a long moment, and you can feel the appreciative hum he gives more than you can hear it. It occurs to you that he's probably just as dazed at your matching temperatures as you are.

"Get in here, darling." The command comes out as more of a question, really. You know in your heart that you have every right to refuse him if you really want to and that he wouldn't even consider holding it against you if you did.

But why in the hells would you ever do a thing as silly as that?

[satoruxx]

pairing: gojo satoru x reader | 1.2k words summary: shoko-centric, as in it’s written from her pov, based on yesterday’s leaks bc i finally have some hope, simple bittersweet angst to fluff !! he’s coming back trust <3

shoko’s eyes are focused as she works, but they can’t help but drift towards you, taking in your expression—half hopeful and half terrified as you watch her hands critically.

your teeth are digging into your bottom lip— worrying the flesh with bites and nips that are sure to eventually draw blood.

she wants to click her tongue and rub your shoulder in the hopes that you’ll stop looking so stressed. but she understands—after all, her hands are occupied with the most important thing in your world.

satoru’s body has begun regenerating on its own—as shoko had expected when he was brought back to her. her body had clicked into autopilot when that blue haired kid handed him off to her, her brain choosing to ignoring the overwhelming sense of relief that washed over her when she saw him pulled away from that death field.

so she could only imagine your feelings in this moment—scared, angry, and yet so hopeful.

because that’s what gojo satoru was to everyone—an embodiment of hope. he had been as such for so many years. she has no doubt that even in death he would be the same.

but despite all that, she wants the blue eyed idiot to wake up already—wants to see his lopsided grin and your relieved face when the two of you look at each other. so all she does is continue to work, because that’s what she’s good at—what she’s always been good at.

working in the shadows.

you don’t say anything to her—you’ve known her long enough not to. shoko thinks back to the thousands of times she’s healed you up after missions, thinks of your sheepish grin when she scolded you for being careless out there. you’ve always been careless about yourself.

she thinks you’ve only ever been truly concerned when satoru was the one who was in trouble.

the two of you were idiots—because while the two of you may not give a shit about your own safety, shoko constantly worried about you both.

so she inhales through her nose, keeping her eyes trained on satoru’s body. “he’ll be fine,” she says, voice steadily echoing around the room. she can feel your eyes on her, feel the studying gaze of them, and oddly enough she relaxes under it.

something so familiar about this all.

she hears you sigh, a nod to her statement, and shoko takes it as a sign of agreement.

it has always been this way with the three of you—too many words unnecessary. at one point in time, it used to be that way among the four of you too.

shoko doesn’t know how much time passes. all she can focus on is the energy flowing from her hands to satoru’s battered body and your rapidly steadying breaths. the silence is not unwelcoming—an odd comfort in the midst of the chaos raging not so far away.

something tilts on its axis when his eyes finally open.

shoko feels like her breath has gone cold, settling low in her chest as she watches him sit up. there’s a brief moment of confusion in his face—eyes hazy as he looks at her. she gives him a pointed stare, not trying to betray her emotions, but the expression is enough for satoru to understand that he wasn’t supposed to be here. the haziness in his eyes clear, and shoko thinks she might be hallucinating because he looks almost apologetic.

and then, his gaze travels past her, to the back corner, and when they land on you shoko can see the puzzle pieces click together. his pupils dilate, lips parting in a sharp inhale as everything finally comes back to him.

you choke back a sob—a sound so pained and shoko almost feels as though it’s cut through her flesh. satoru’s eyes are wild, arms reaching for you before his brain can even catch up. he pulls you against him with reckless abandon, your body folding into his like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

which, shoko understands, it is.

your arms are tight around satoru’s midsection, head buried into his chest—as though if you let him go he’ll slip away all over again. shoko doesn’t blame you—she doesn’t take her eyes off of him for the exact same reason.

satoru’s fingers remain tangled in your hair—a tremor to them that only the most observant eyes can pick up.

your shoulders shake with the effort of holding back a plethora of emotions that shoko both understands and doesn’t. satoru’s hands smooth down your hair, chest heaving as he shuts his eyes and presses his nose to your temple.

it’s an embrace that shoko is almost proud to see—a reunion that she’s grateful to be privy to.

satoru pulls back a little, hands cupping your face as his eyes dart over your features—wild and bright with life.

“‘m sorry—” he’s saying, voice oddly steady for the way his fingertips are trembling against your skin. “i didn’t—i thought—fuck, ‘m so sorry, sweets—”

“you came back.” you’re whispering, voice unsteady and thick with unfiltered longing. you pull him back into a hug. “thank god. you came back.”

satoru’s arms tighten around you imperceptibly. a featherlight kiss dusts your forehead—barely a touch but there all the same.

shoko smothers an amused huff. it’s about time.

your voice is shaking even with your cheek pressed against his chest. “i thought that you—”

satoru nods against your temple. “i did,” he answers, licking at his dry lips. “i mean—”

a sharp inhale. you pull back to study his face. satoru’s voice becomes imperceptibly softer. “i saw…”

shoko doesn’t need to ask what he saw—she knows it automatically. you seem to know it too.

“it’s fine.” he’s shaking his head, lips quirking upward—his thumb brushes over the slope of your cheek with the utmost care. “it doesn’t matter.”

you give him a rueful smile, eyes uncharacteristically dewy, and shoko thanks her lucky stars that the expression seems to bother satoru just as much as it bothers her. she watches him cup your face, leaning his forehead against yours with an oddly somber sigh. your fingers come up to press against his knuckles, and satoru smiles, eyes fluttering at the touch.

shoko sees the color slowly start seeping back into his skin, an all familiar flush dusting his cheeks as he looks down at you, and her shoulders drop—a weight lifting.

she takes a step back.

satoru makes eyes contact with her over your head. there’s something there, deep within cerulean blue, that has shoko’s body finally relaxing. he studies her, eyes wide and open, and for the first time in a long time, she sees the message in them clearly.

his lips curl upward at her, an expression so nostalgic it makes shoko think she can hear the sound of teenage laughter—a gentle voice whispering about the good and bad of their lives. she shuts her eyes—helpless.

satoru watches her expression, somehow understanding, and he smiles to himself. his chin tips down at her, an acknowledgment of sorts, that has her feeling oddly emotional.

shoko shoves her hands in her pockets, and for the first time in a while, she allows herself to smile.

[leighsartworks216]

Blood Washes Out

Sylus x gn!Reader

Had this idea and had to spend like a week writing it

Warnings: hurt/comfort, blood, injury, murder, swearing, vomiting, panic, pet names, sharing clothes, cuddling, crying, guilt, broken bones, guns

Word Count: 2,801

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The phone rings by your ear, waiting to be answered. The copper stench of blood latches itself to your senses. You can taste it on your tongue, against your teeth, at the back of your throat.

The call is picked up and a whimper of relief rips from your mouth against your will. “Sylus!”

“What’s wrong?” he demands. His voice is stern. You’re glad for its strength right now. “Are you alright?”

What a shit question for him to ask.

“I need you to pick me up.” You turn your head to the side to spit out the blood pooling in your mouth. You wish it would just fucking stop.

“Send me your location, but don’t hang up.”

You feel blood stick to your ear as you pull the phone away. The touch screen is covered in red fingerprints. You’re shocked it still reads your input as you go to your messages and send him your location. You feel a burn at the back of your throat as you put the phone back to your ear, disgust wrapping its hands around your esophagus and churning your stomach.

He says your name. It’s so rare to hear him say it nowadays. That’s how you know he’s really worried. “I’ll be there in five minutes. I’m sending Mephisto ahead of me. Stay on the phone.”

You nod even though he can’t see, squeezing your eyes shut and curling into yourself as you wait on the curbside. If there’s anybody else around, anybody else who witnessed what happened…

Panic floods your veins like ice.

What if someone did see what happened? Or- Or maybe someone who didn’t and just stumbles around the corner to find-

You clamp a hand over your mouth. Bloody fingers aggravate your nose. More blood pours over them, warm and wet, sliding over a layer that’s already congealed. The metallic twang stings your eyes.

You can’t tell whose blood is whose anymore.

“I’m coming, sweetie. Just a few more minutes.”

You gasp out, “I’m gonna be sick.”

You don’t get a chance to hear his response before you drop your phone to the sidewalk. Your body moves on its own in a mad dash to turn and hurl into the gutter. It burns. It burns so fucking bad. And the taste-

Your body convulses and shakes, acting against you until your stomach is empty and you’re coughing around dry heaves.

A motor pulls up nearby. Heavy boots scuff the pavement as they rush to you. A gloved hand pulls your hair back, collecting it at the base of your head. An arm wraps around your chest, keeping you upright. A caw sounds from above you.

“I’ve got you. Don’t fight it. I’ve got you.”

Sylus surveys the scene around you. A body lays several feet away on its back. A dark red trail worms its way through cracks in the sidewalk and follows the uneven ground to a drain intended for catching floodwater. A gun hangs limply in its hand. Yours is discarded nearby.

He ducks his head to look at your face. Your eyes are clamped shut, lips trembling as you try to catch your breath. Tears glide down the curve of your cheeks.

Your nose is broken. Blood oozes from it slowly, dripping into your mouth and down your chin. It mixes with your bile and saliva as you weakly spit it out. More blood covers your clothes and your hands. It’s hard to distinguish what’s all yours, or if your broken nose is your only injury.

He grabs a handkerchief from his pocket. It cost more than your apartment and he couldn’t give a damn as he uses it to gently wipe at your mouth. “Just breathe, sweetheart. Can you stand?”

You take in a deep, uneven breath, and nod. He lets go of your hair and grabs your phone, sliding it into his pocket without worrying about the blood. He tucks the handkerchief right next to it. His arms are strong and grounding as he helps you to your feet, putting himself between you and the body as he leads you to his bike. If he’d known what state you were in, he would’ve brought the car. As it was, he was more concerned with getting to you as fast as possible.

He doesn’t force you to put the helmet on this time. As much as he’d normally insist, he didn’t want to trap you in a helmet if you were still nauseous. He slips it over his own head as he gets on first and gives you his arm for support as you climb on behind him. Your arms wrap around him tightly, bloody fingers clinging to his shirt under his leather jacket. Your body rests heavily against his back.

“My gun…” you say quietly, halfheartedly, like your concern for it is only a distant afterthought.

Sylus squeezes your hands reassuringly. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll get it back for you later.”

You nod against him. The engine purrs beneath you as he turns his bike around and peels off back home.

-

The ride is a blur of passing lights and buildings, a collage of Linkon City and the N109 Zone meshing together until you relent to just keep your eyes shut. You don’t open them again until he slows to a stop in front of his mansion.

The twins are rushing out the door to greet you. “Boss! Woah, what happened to you?” Luke winces as he catches sight of you. Kieran smacks him upside the head and rushes to help you off the bike.

Sylus gets off after, pulling his helmet off and resting it on the seat. He pulls out the phone and handkerchief, and passes it over to Luke. “Get this cleaned up.”

“Sure thing, Boss!”

He takes you gently away from Kieran, wrapping an arm behind your knees and back and lifting you into his arms. “Follow Mephisto. Deal with it.”

Kieran nods. “On it, Boss.” Mephisto’s metal wings slice through the air as Sylus leads you past the twins and inside.

“‘M sorry,” you mumble. You turn your head from his shoulder, trying not to get blood on his shirt. Your hands sit limply in your lap.

“Don’t apologize, sweetie,” he assures. “Can you tell me what happened?”

The mansion is warm and familiar, dark and comforting in a way the night outside isn’t. He carries you all the way to his room and the ensuite bathroom where he sits you on the countertop. He removes his gloves, grabs a white washcloth, wets it under the faucet, and gently works on cleaning the blood from your face. The pristine white cloth stains pink, and eventually red.

You stare at his shirt. Despite it being black, you can see the remnants of blood you left on him.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.” He holds your chin delicately in one hand, tilting your head up to look at him. “Talk to me.”

Fresh tears burn at your eyes. You want to forget tonight ever happened. Want to find someone with a time-traveling Evol just so you can go back and do everything different.

It’s a fruitless wish. Everything already happened. It was already burned into your mind. There would be no do-overs.

Your voice cracks as you speak. He frowns at the sorrowful sound. “I was going to the convenience store to get some snacks. I-I wanted some chocolate, and I didn’t have any, so… B-But I guess one of my neighbors followed me. A lot of them are Hunters, too. Said they heard me talking to you.”

“They recognized my name from the Association.” It wasn’t a question. You nod. He folds the cloth over and brushes away some splatter from your face, gently wiping away some stray tears in the process. “Did they threaten you?”

You don’t need to answer. He already knows. That gun in their hand wasn’t just for show.

“They…” You swallow uncomfortably. Your mouth feels tacky. “They said they were gonna turn me in, but wh-when they approached, I freaked out. I just started fighting back, I-I didn’t know what else to do. They punched me and I fell to the ground. Th-Their gun was aimed at me, I couldn’t think, a-and I…”

The weight of the weapon in your hands never felt heavier than in that moment. Tears fell freely now. Your lungs shudder, gasping for air you can’t seem to get enough of. Your face crumples into a horrible grimace as you sob. Sylus cradles the back of your head and pulls you into his chest. He drops the cloth in the sink to wrap his arm around you. You grab onto his shirt. The blood on your hands is dried and crackly, seeping deep into your pores and staining your flesh.

“I tried saving them,” you whimper. “I tried, but there was just so, so much blood, I- I couldn’t do anything.”

He hushes you softly. “You were threatened and you protected yourself.”

“What if the Association finds out? What’re they gonna do when they find out someone’s missing? Fuck, Sy, what- What’s gonna happen?”

“Nothing’s going to happen. They’ll put up missing posters around the block, wondering where they went off to. It’ll remain an unsolved mystery, a story to tell the grandkids.”

It’s not reassuring. He sighs.

“What do you want to happen, sweetheart? You tell your boss what happened: you don’t get tried for murder, but you have to come clean about sneaking into the N109 Zone and being besties with the big bad leader of Onychinus. Or you don’t say anything, and nothing happens.” He pulls away slightly to look down at your face. You stare at the glass door of the shower, eyes glazed over and distant. “Which option sounds better to you, hm?”

You wrack your brain for a third option. Something that doesn’t take away the job you love and permanently ruin your life, while giving the Hunter you killed some grace in death. But there is none. Not really.

So you sigh. Long and drawn out. Will this guilt ever get any easier to carry?

You pull away from Sylus and he lets you. You cringe at his shirt. “I got blood on you.”

He chuckles. “Blood washes out, kitten.”

“Not very easily.”

“No,” he agrees. “But I have my ways.”

This is no longer a simple conversation about laundry.

Sylus picks the cloth back up and wets it again. The excess water that isn’t squeezed out drips into your lap. He wipes the fresh blood coming from your nose. “We need to set this. Do you want something to bite down on?”

-

Your nose still stings as you stand under the shower spray. The heady scent of his shampoo saturates the air, swirling in tandem with the steam. There’s no more blood in your hair, on your ear from the phone, or on your face. And there isn’t any on your hands, either. But as you look down at them, water collecting in your palms and slipping between your fingers, you could feel the hot blood that had been there.

A knock on the door startles you from your revelry. It opens before you can say anything, and you can see the blurry silhouette of Sylus as he sets something on the counter.

“Here’s some fresh clothes. I’ll be out here when you’re done.” His face doesn’t ever glance at the shower door, even when you call out his name to stop him while he’s leaving. He just stands there, head ducked slightly and ear turned your way, listening.

“Thank you.”

He chuckles softly. “It’s just clothes, sweetheart.”

You sigh bitterly. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

The door closes with a faint click as he leaves.

You put some soap in your hands and scrub until the skin is raw. Until you can’t trick yourself into thinking there’s still blood on them. Until the water begins to run cold. Only then do you feel clean enough to turn off the water and step out of the shower.

The clothes are large, practically drowning you in excess fabric. The familiar athletic shorts only stay on because of the elastic waistband and a hidden drawstring that ties on the inside of the shorts. The sweater’s sleeves go past your hands. You can’t imagine wearing anything else right now.

Just as he promised, he’s sitting on his bed when you open the door. The deconstructed parts of your gun lay spread out on the blanket, neatly sorted out. He diligently cleans every piece, ensuring he gets every speck of blood while giving it basic maintenance.

“Sorry about the clothes, sweetie. I’ll have some tailored for you.”

You pad across the floor and carefully climb up onto the bed, doing your best not to disturb the array. He doesn’t stop you when you snuggle up to his side. Rather, he allows you to wrap your arms around his, adjusting how he works for your sake. You shake your head and rest it on his shoulder.

“This is fine,” you assure him. The silence goes on for a beat or two too long before you add, “I might just steal this sweater from you.”

He chuckles. “Go ahead, sweetie. I can get more.” He sets down a cleaned part and picks up another one he hasn’t tended to yet. “Tell me what materials you like and I’ll have a whole closet of them you can steal, if you’d like.”

You smile slightly. He only notices when he glances down at you. He sets the piece down and begins to quickly assemble it all back together. You inhibit his movements somewhat, so it takes a few seconds longer than he’s used to, but he doesn’t complain. Your gun looks brand new, just as pretty and perfect as it was when you first got it at the Academy.

He flips it to offer the handle to you, a silent question. It’s all too reminiscent of your first meeting with him. Even then, even after you’d pulled the trigger, frightened for your life, you’d tried to save him. If it hadn’t been for his Evol…

Well. Lightning never strikes the same place twice.

You hide your face in his shirt, the casual grey one he usually lounges around in. The clinking of the gun disappears with the sound of a drawer opening and closing. His hand brushes your hair.

“You should get some sleep, sweetie. It’s late for you.”

“I’m not tired.” Your body says otherwise. You’re practically melting into him, into the bed. If you stay there for just a few minutes longer, you’ll be fast asleep.

“Now why don’t I believe that,” he teases.

You sigh and force yourself off of him, beginning to slip off the bed. “Let’s watch something.”

He sighs, too, but at your unrelenting stubbornness. It’s almost reassuring. At least you weren’t in a heap under the blankets, sobbing. He follows you into the living room, to the couch directly across from a large TV. You grab a blanket and wrap it around yourself until you are securely cocooned and tucked against an armrest. He sits next to you, drawing you into his side. His Evol carries the remote to his hand.

You command him along through menus and catalogues until you reach one of your favorite comfort films. The lights automatically dim as it starts playing.

You’re not even three minutes into the movie before your eyes are drooping closed. He knew it would happen, knew the exhaustion would catch up with you eventually. Still, it was quite cute, watching you fight to keep your eyes open and your head off his chest. Slowly, slowly giving in. Resting your head on his chest. Listening to his unusual heartbeat. Losing the battle against consciousness.

Still, he lets it play through to the end. It’s not a bad movie, he decides. You enjoy it, so it must have some merit. And you can always tell a lot about someone based on their favorite things.

Careful not to wake you up, Sylus lifts you into his arms, cradling you close to his chest. He carries you back to bed, not bothering to unwrap you from your cocoon at all. Despite being wide awake, he lays down beside you, continuing to hold you close to him. If you have a nightmare, he wants to be there. If you wake up in a dazed panic, he wants to be there.

As accustomed as he’s become with taking lives, he’s unfamiliar with the crisis you’re facing and how to comfort someone through a crisis of any kind. He wants to help. As best as he can, he wants you to be okay. He needs you to be okay.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow

[sukunasweetheart]

fem!reader, heaps of cum, somnophilia, handjob, blowjob, lots of masturbation, its just mindless smut so um... yea.... i need to go to horny jail fr for this one.

word count: 1k

I just need more perv!sukuna man.... fucking pathetic and desperate and horny, i want him with that degenerate behaviour. hes alr a horny ass mf but ohhh my goodness do YOU light a fire in him that nobody else can... You make him question his fucking dignity bc he gets a raging boner every time you do the bare minimum...

Perv!sukuna who needs to take a bathroom break every now and then around you bc his dick just wont stay down - fucking his fist desperately in a toilet stall being as quiet as possible because this is so out of character for his image, he's supposed to be the nonchalant, mean, coldhearted guy!!

Perv!sukuna who shudders from how turned on he is at the simplest things you might do, like when you bump into him on accident and the scent of your perfume hits his nose like an aphrodisiac, he wants to bury his face against the crook of your neck and inhale deeply - let the smell of you reach deep into his lungs. he wants to run his tongue across your skin so he can check if you taste as good as you smell.

Perv!sukuna who eventually makes his moves on you slowly... but its really difficult when every little kiss makes all the blood rush to his cock. He drops you off to your house after a date, and he makes out with you a little bit in his car before you have to leave, and there, he's sitting in the driver's seat with a tent in his pants. He waits until the window to your room lights up, and begins to stroke himself while thinking about how're you're probably stripping in your bedroom right now, to change your clothes. and speaking of clothes....

Perv!sukuna who likes to bring any of your scented clothes against his nose and jack off vigorously, unable to get enough of it. eyes rolling back when that orgasm hits him while every breath he takes in has your smell embedded in it.

Perv!sukuna who somehow manages to snatch up one of your panties one day and jerks himself off with it... he didn't want to cum directly on it yet, but he couldn't help himself and soiled it so quickly. he'll need to wash it now, and your scent's gonna be lost. if that's the case, he'll just use it a few more times to get himself off. (by the end of it, he's ruined it beyond washing with his seed by going a bit overboard...)

Perv!sukuna who starts nosebleeding the first time he actually gets to wet his dick with your pussy. You were mortified when drops of blood started running down from his nose once his cock was inside you. He wipes it away with tissues from your bedside and insists hes fine with a wolfish grin... he's just overtly aroused. that night, he wound up using a whole box of condoms from just your cunt alone. milked completely. so satiated. at one point, he had forgotten to change condoms after cumming once and blew a couple of loads into the same one, making you balloon up a bit.

Perv!sukuna who has a libido of an endless pit, he can stay hard and just cum over and over and over again... could stuff you so full you'll be pushing his seed out of yourself for literal days after having sex with him, once you're on the pill. he's just dumped his seed into you but his hips are still thrusting, cock heavy and ready to give you another one without pulling out once.

Perv!sukuna who is obsessed with any and every part of your body. the way he gropes your tits, ass, thighs, hips, etc. resembles a perverted old man - those grabby hands are always finding a way to squish your flesh whatever chance he gets. those large, searing and calloused hands are constantly gliding across your skin, making you wet your panties without failing all the damn time. his arms snake under your clothes very sneakily. you can push him away and verbally chastise him all you want, but you can't hide how much you enjoy all of it...

Perv!sukuna who becomes relentless with somnophilia once you give him the consent-- it starts off with just pathetic and desperate dry humping, but soon you'll be waking up with his dick anywhere on the surface of your skin or inside you, and you're greeted with a 'good morning' that's riddled with a deep groan, followed by ropes of his hot cum spilling in or onto you.

Perv!sukuna who just HAS to drag you to somewhere like the public toilets, in order to get you to suck him off or stroke him or SOMETHING bc his boner is getting too painful (you caressed his thigh). you always opt for jerking him off when you're outside, because things tend to get too messy when you let him in. he has no self control smh... now he's fucking YOUR fist in a stall, panting in your ear and saying things like "fuck, yes, baby... squeeze me more- fuu-ck," before painting the toilet with spurts of his cum. you grip firmly onto the base of his dick and he almost buckles over from the pleasure. you feel his pulsating cock in your hand and bite your lip hard.

Perv!sukuna who gets an oral fixation after you gave him head once. things get difficult for you. those pretty lips wrapped around his erection makes him absolutely feral. now he's thrusting in and out of your throat mumbling "fuck- i can't- help myself-" because you're tightening up on him so nicely and it feels too good. releases straight inside with your nose pressed onto his pubic bone, hips jerking as you feel the spurts hit the back of your throat and seep down to your stomach. his eyes half-lidded, high from the pleasure.

sukuna might be the greatest pervert of all time, but what does it say about you when you stay with him regardless? you enjoy being his live fuck toy. thankfully, he gives you great aftercare and spoils you silly behind the scenes. (i wasnt bothered to write the romance aspects so please imagine it yourselves <3) the way i wanted to add MORE but refrained bc it would get a bit too repetitive :)

Masterlist

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbor fic - PTSD, mentions of death, trauma Simon Riley/female reader

Simon’s boots are sticking to the floor.

He had scrubbed and scrubbed them, scratched a sponge against the sole and up over the toe, used coiled wool to try to scrape the bits and pieces from the bottom, digging deeply into the cracks to try to dislodge anything leftover from the last month. The heat made it a particularly difficult task, melting together the dirt and blood, sealing it to the rubber in a congealed mess that he couldn’t clean off.

It’s spring now, and his breath doesn’t fog through the air like it did before he left. The mornings are coated in a prickly frozen dew that sparkles just right in the sunrise, refracting orange and pink hues into the building’s front lobby, washing over the bland egg white walls and coloring them into a spectacle, cold shadows of night chased away by the long fingers of warm daylight.

His boots scuff along the hallway, squeaking like they’re trying to announce his arrival, trying to give up his position before he deems it necessary, before he gets inside the entryway, blasting a signal through the flat that he’s home, that he’s made it. The sound of his boots competes with the buzzing that’s bouncing around in the back of his skull, sawing through the soft, pink mush of his brain, trying hack away at the only good pieces he has left. It’s gotten louder since he parked the car, competing with the drum beat of his heart, the churning of anxiety and anticipation in his stomach. He’s so, so close, and still a thousand miles away from you, even though he’s in the kitchen. His fingers grip fast to his bag, canvas straps twisted around his wrist, and he holds his breath, world rotating in slow motion as he listens for you, catches the musical note of your voice in Emma’s room. His spine stays stiff, unsure, and the buzzing that bites at his synapses gets louder, fills his head with the low rumble of fear that’s been simmering beneath the surface since he stepped out this door a month ago. You’re safe. You’re here. You and Emmaline are fine. You’ve been texting him everyday. You’re safe. You’re-

“Simon?” He blinks. You’re in the kitchen with him, eyes sleepy, Emma in your arms. One of his t shirts sits at your hips, plaid robe half falling off your shoulder. She’s more awake than you appear to be, and he begs his mouth to work, encourages his tongue to move so he can talk to you, so he can say “good morning, sorry I didn’t call, wanted to surprise you.” Or “hi, good morning, I missed you so much.”

But he can’t. Because all he can see, all he can taste, is blood. He doesn’t see his girl, he sees you broken and limp on the floor. He doesn’t see his baby, he sees Joseph’s lifeless body. He sees the carnage of this last op, hears the dying draw of a last breath, over and over.

“Hey.” Your fingers tentatively skim along his forearm. “You’re still dressed.” You note, and he nods, locked up, trying to push the buzzsaw in his brain away. He didn’t change, showered at the safe house before the flight home, and then immediately headed your way, his uniform clean, untouched by the gore and misery, still starched and formal unlike his tac gear, all of it made to wring the blood from its stitching over and over again. “Simon, someone wants to see you.” Emma’s now half in his arms, cooing at him, carefully supported in your hands, and he instinctively curls around her, swooping low to nose along her scalp.

The reverberations cease. The buzzing and gnawing and stabbing into his brain silences, just like that, and he fills his lungs with air, one hand now cradling your face, the other warm beneath Emma’s weight.

“Welcome home.” It’s a whisper, the softest, sweetest thing he’s ever heard, and he smiles beneath the balaclava, pressing his lips to your forehead. “We missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He murmurs. He wonders if the moment has passed, if he should be stepping away now, and he flexes, testing- only to be pulled back, an arm sliding around his back, anchoring him closer, tighter.

“Just stay here for a minute.” Stay. Stay here with you, stay with his girls. His voice roughens as he croaks out an answer.

“Always.”

[highvern]

Soft

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x fem! reader

Genre: fluffy smut, 18+

Warnings: sleepy soft domestic sex, oral (m. receiving), praise, cum swallowing, face fucking, soft cheol, mentions of butt stuff (this is becoming too frequent), mentions of thigh riding, begging, dom-ish cheol, sub-reader

Length: 1.5k

Note: inspired by this soft thought. like i literally haven't stopped thinking about domestic cheol the past few days and just loving that man up so here is a short fic to get it out of my system. not proof read!!!! also @bbychocolat thank u for ruining my night with domestic cheol thots

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

The winter chill seeping through the window bites against your nose as your boyfriend traces the cool tip of his own against your cheek. Pinned under the weight of his body and the blankets, you float into bliss; his slightly chapped lips repaying all the kisses you loaned him minutes earlier.

Beyond your entangled bodies the bed feels infinite. There's nothing in the world beyond you and Seungcheol. The world is quietly holding its breath as you comb your fingers through his hair.

You urge him to stay on the next pass of his mouth against yours. A gentle suck of his lower lip is all it takes to convince him he's right where he needs to be. His hand caresses your face, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. Your eyes open and meet his when he manages to pull away. Something more than words could ever convey passes between you.

A gentle prod against his shoulder rolls him into the sheets next to your body; the hood of his sweater falling back to reveal the mess of his hair. Longing aches in your heart from his soft face and pouting lips. You’d sit in his lap and kiss him for the rest of time if he asked. If he wanted the moon, you’d find a way to give it to him. Anything for him to keep looking at you the way he is now.

Dipping down, you reconnect your mouths. The wash of his tongue across your bottom lip is soothing as a stream.

His hand doesn’t stop stroking the back of your neck, thumb massinging against the knob of bone at the base of your skull. The juxtaposition of your boyfriend’s strength and how he always treats you as something fragile makes you dizzy.

It’s too cold to undress so you settle for pulling Seungcheol’s hoodie up his stomach. Each inch of skin revealed drives you further down into the pit of desperation blooming in your stomach. 

Your lips trace the bottom of his ribs, across the softness of his belly and the slightly raised jut of his hips. The urge to cover him in dark bruises and bite marks sings through your blood but you’ll save it for another time. Right now, you want to worship every piece of your man with the softness he usually bestows on you.

His ticklish laughter curls against your ears when you lick the raised vein below his belly button. The smile against his skin only makes him curl up further. 

“Cheollie,” you snicker, fingers soft against his sides.

“Don’t start.”

It’s a warning. He hates being tickled. The first time you found his weak spots, Seungcheol had to pin you against the bed and distract you with something else for you to stop.

And as tempting as that is; it’s still not what you want. 

You mouth against the bulge hiding under the fabric of his pants, hot breaths puffing through to his cock. Following the lean, you suck around the tip until his gray sweats are soaked in your spit on one side and his pre-cum on the other. Every twitch of your lips has him swelling until his hands rush to shimmy down his sweats and underwear. 

Seungcheol slowly feeds you each inch of his cock, eyes never leaving your own even as you drool into his lap the way he likes. The slick of his cum satisfies you the way nothing else can; the cure for a part of your brain always desperate for your boyfriend to use you.

“So good,” he croaks.

Each lap of your tongue against his length takes him higher, but your desperate whimpers whispering up to his ears are the best part of this. You lick gently at the head, sucking up your reward until Seungcheol’s brain melts out of his ears.

He knows how much you like his hands, his fingers, and never shies away from reminding you of that fact. Especially in a position like this were your eagerness to please possess every cell in your body.

One hand lands on the side of your face, thumb hooking in the split of your lips to stretch your mouth wider around his cock before he forces you to take it. The other finds the back of your head, a silent possessiveness sneaking into the hold.

You test the waters by lifting as far up as you can, almost to the point his cock slips from your mouth, only to find your boyfriend’s firm hand guiding you back down. The please hum budding in your throat makes both his hands squeeze gently in acknowledgment.

A tight fist helps him along, your thumb working along the thick vein webbed on the side of Seungcheol’s cock. Each smoky rasp of his voice lulls you further down. Every praise and sigh whispering across your spine, heating your core. 

He bucks when your hand disappears and you try to force the last inches across your tongue. Your face is a wet mess of spit, cum, and tears. Eyes round as you watch Seungcheol’s mouth twist in pleasure when you suck him deep, nose dusting against his pelvis. 

The blood in your brain thickens to syrup as he holds you there, throat tight while you choke. 

“You’re perfect,” Seungcheol groans through a lazy smile, eyes glazed. 

You come up for a quick breath before falling back down. The heat of his palms control your pace, gentle but firm. Not as deep as you can go but far enough you gag if you don’t focus. 

The next stroke leaves you scrambling when his cock pops out of your mouth to land on his stomach. A hand manages to catch him but Seungcheol’s own on your cheek keeps his cock just out of reach. 

"Stop," you keen, aching in your bones to get lost in the rhythm and taste again.

A thumb silences your protest, curling down on your tongue until you suck on it instead.

Seungcheol knows you’d do just about anything he asks right now. If he said he wanted to fuck your ass, you’d bend over and present yourself without reservation. If he told you to ride his thigh until you came you’d leave his pants soaked. If he wanted to paint your face with his spend... well, you'd probably beg him to before he gets the chance to say the words. It’s thrilling.

His hand not fucking your mouth moves to grabs his cock. Streaks of shine trail across your lips as he traces it around your mouth, his thumb still dug into your tongue to keep you from sucking him back in. Gurgled pleas fall apart as he slaps your cheek with his cock and leaves you covered in more traces of him.

“Gonna let me cum here?” Your boyfriend asks, prying your mouth open to give you another taste before pulling back again.

A tear washes down your cheek as you respond, hands wrapping around his wrists as if you can outmatch his strength and keep him in place.

“Please.” 

He can’t say no with the way you present your tongue. Flat and waiting.

You meet him halfway as he thrusts back home. Sloppy claps echo across the room as he fucks your throat until the end rushes him like a riptide.

His hips lift off the bed and into your mouth as he cums, the taste pulling desperate moan after moan out of your lungs. There's so much. Every hot rope flooding your mouth, excess pushed out the corners of your lips for you to collect later.

You keep going, even though your boyfriend is spent and twitches from each lap against his softening length. A pathetic whimper vibrates against his tip when you rub it against your swollen lips, glossing them in his cum, before you swallow him back down.

He loves you like this. Mesmerized by his cock, so desperate for his cum you can’t help yourself. Seuncheol knows if he pushes you off there's a very real chance you’ll cry so he happily lets you continue despite the discomfort. The thickness of his cum spreading across his spent cock used to be uncomfortable as you held it in your mouth. But a late night with you bent over his lap made him privy to your perversions. How you came that much harder when he fucked you with his cum as lube before spilling another load inside you. If he can get hard again, he'll make good on it like he always does.

But he can tell by the way your eyes slip shut and your breathing slows that you’re far too tired to take him a second time. 

When you’re satisfied, content that you’ve taken all he’s got to give, Seungcheol hauls you back up to his chest. More adorning kisses tickle your face, each slow and pointed. You know how he feels just by the way he touches you, even if he hasn’t said it yet.

--

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Dark!Naga!SatoSugu x reader

Top of the Food Chain

I've always wanted to continue my naga!mha fic but considering i dont write for deku+co anymore, i decided to move my au a couple fandoms over:D 1.8k wc

Part two , Part three

(Warnings: animal deaths, blood, obsession, dark content, slight gun threat but not rlly, polyamory, gender ambigious!reader) 

Despite being here for nearly a week, you still don't think Satoru understood how delicate you are. 

He's overbearing, in that sense. Constantly poking and prodding and squeezing until your lungs give and you're forced to squeak. You can't blame him for not understanding. He's an animal, after all. Inhuman. Despite his skin and hair, the scales coating his tail give away just how different he is. He was probably born fighting, kicking, and screeching his way through the foliage, hunting, chewing, and biting. 

He's not like you when all you knew when you were younger was coddling and softness. You can see it in his scars, and bruises, and marks. 

Luckily, for you, Suguru had an inkling that you weren't made for sharp claws. 

It's not a fight, you can tell when they're fighting, it's more like a warning? A minor disagreement. Suguru hisses at the other naga, scrunching up his face, showing his teeth. Satoru is quick to respond, but a little more playful. Fortunately for you, the black-haired male seems to win the argument. Satoru's coils loosen around you. Air stops fighting its way to get into your lungs. 

You finally go lax in his hold. Satoru seems to enjoy that, dipping his head to bury his face into the base of his neck. The first few times he did that, you were afraid he was trying to bite off your jugular. Now, you think it's just another way he can soak up your body heat. 

Maybe you've been here for longer than a week. At this point, you couldn't really tell. Hope that you'd be found was starting to slowly fizzle away. The explosion had been massive. The ship had sunk in a matter of minutes. With a disaster that huge, you doubt anyone would still be looking for survivors. Especially on an uncharted island, where myth had turned into reality. 

 Satoru had been the one you'd woken up to. Washed ashore, barely conscious. You were half-certain he was planning on eating you with the way he held your leg, watching your muscles bend and turn. In his defense, he must have thought you were dead. Your shrill scream quickly convinced him otherwise. 

It was barely a fight. More or less, a pathetic kidnapping as he grabbed your body, slinging it over his shoulder. You've never remembered screaming and crying so loudly before, convinced you were about to be eaten. Suguru probably heard you before he saw you. 

Satoru's mate was a little less impressed with you. Back then, they didn't bother learning your tongue, speaking in hisses and snarls, unaware of your misery. Suguru's frown was glued on his face, but the naga never let you run away, always keeping a hand or a tail on you at all times. It was a rough first day; you didn't know they weren't interested in eating you until they tried to feed you. 

Things were much different back then Nowadays, they are a lot more considerate of yourself and your soft body. You think you've come to an understanding with these strange creatures. 

Suguru was the nicest out of the two. In that, you mean the least rough. Compared to his counterpart, he's a bit smaller, but that's not saying there's any real difference. If it comes down to it, you are more than certain he'd be able to kill you off as quickly as his mate. You thought he hated you, at first. Now, you think he has a hard time showing blatant affection. His touches typically come in the dead of night, when you're barely conscious. A clawed finger gently raking over your soft skin. Large hands sculpting your face. 

Satoru's eyes were the first thing you noticed about him. Glittering like blue sapphires. You had a feeling they weren't just for show. Time and time again he's proven that he can see better than Suguru could. He smiles a lot more, but you're starting to wonder if that expression translates across species. He can speak your tongue slightly better than Suguru could. It most likely has to do with his insistence on staying with you. The more time you spend with him, the more you have to say 'No' 'Don't touch there' 'Stop'. 

In the rare times you manage to escape their hold, you like watching them interact with each other. They often sunbathe for hours, lazing around hot rocks to soak in the heat. They like touching each other. Sometimes it's aggressive, like when Satoru chomps on Suguru's neck and you're suddenly much more aware of how careful he is with you. Other times it's: soft, unintentional, meaningless. Languid cuddling when you are finally able to braid Suguru's hair. 

At this point, you've surmised they won't eat you. At least, not for the moment. You don't exactly know what they think of you. Do they have the concept of pets in their worldview? Maybe that's the closest thing you can place yourself as, at least in their eyes. They must think you're helpless. To them, you have no claws, no fangs, no venom. They probably don't know you come from a species that's hunted others to extinction and currently burning down the planet. You must be the first time they've ever seen your kind, stripped away from your weapons, when you're the least dangerous. 

"You should be more scared of me, you know," you once whispered to Suguru in the dead of night.

He was dozing off, blearily keeping his eyes open to stare at your moving lips. There was a grunt behind you, and Satoru tightened his arms across your waist. Greedy for affection, even in his sleep.

"Humans are terrifying," you said, reaching out to touch, "top of the food chain."

Suguru had smiled at that. You found yourself smiling back.

"You're lucky I didn't have a gun on me. You probably don't even know what that is." It's dark humor to press two fingers into his forehead. Your way of coping maybe.

Or perhaps your actions prove that humans will always desire to be violent, no matter how perilous their fight may be.

"Bang." He leans into your touch, unafraid. Oblivious to the threat that you are.

You're guessing Satoru only let you go because of the food Suguru brought.

You're able to feel the ground again as he glides over to Suguru having just come back from a successful hunt. The carcass of the largest deer you've ever seen is slung across his back. The smell of blood already makes you nauseous. 

You think Suguru had been the most panicked when you refused to eat, clicking and cooing while he tried to force-feed you the bloody leg of a bear. Back then, your communication was even worse than it was now. You were smeared in crimson by the time he relented. Practically dripping in it. 

Now, Suguru knows you have different tastes than them. You're not a big fan of raw. The fish and the handful of berries are more than enough to sate you as you gather the items he's given in your hands. 

"Thank you," you say. You reach out, touching his face with warm fingers. He purrs into your touch. You smile. It's the least gratitude you can give him. After all, he's not asking for much. If they hadn't found you, you would have been dead long ago, or at least, significantly less weaker. It's the least you can do. 

For a moment, you delude yourself into thinking they were your pets. It'd certainly be easy too. They have little to no regard for personal boundaries, much like dogs. They're more animalistic than they are human. 

It's funny to think of these monsters as lovable pets.

"Thank you," Suguru repeats. You giggle. It's not like they actually understand you. It's simple mimicry. Like talking to a parrot. 

"Thank you!" Satoru chirps, never one to be left out. He pushes his mate out of the way, eager for your pets as well. Suguru hisses, but doesn't argue. You've learned they like to be scratched right there on the bottoms of their chins. 

Suguru's less obvious, but Satoru has no desire to pretend. He melts into you, practically slumping his weight into your weak hold. It's a little adorable actually. You give a little laugh. He seems even more pleased at that. 

They're fun to be around, but this can't last. You belong with other humans, far far away from this island. So far, you hadn't seen any boats in the horizon, but you hope one would come by soon. A plane would be even better. Close enough to give you hope. Maybe if you built a big enough fire, it'd reach someone eye. 

Hopefully, in just a few weeks, these creatures will be a very cherished memory. 

You frown when Satoru reaches over to grasp at your food, the meat specifically. You glare, moving away from his hold. He titters in clear disappointment. You hate seeing him sad but you already have so few food sources. It's best to conserve whatever you get. 

"No," you pointedly tell him, "It's mine. Mine." 

His frown deepens, and he opens his jaws to let his fangs pop out. 

"Mine," you repeat. 

He leans back, huffing. You laugh because you know his expression is more out of frustration than any actual anger. Again, animals. You pet his head in apology, before turning away. You'd have to start a tiny fire to start cooking. Raw fish is edible, but it's hardly desirable. 

A hand grabs yours, clawed, the grip is tight around your frail skin. When you look back, Satoru is staring at you. Eyes wide. Eager. 

"Mine," he says, but it's more like he's testing the word. Tasting it on his lips. 

You scoff, unamused. "That's my arm. Not yours." 

Satoru smiles. Sharp teeth. You suddenly remember he's a carnivore. 

He's slow when he draws you in, practically dragging you into his arms. You're used to his spontaneous hugs, tight and suffocating. You can't fight him off, so you typically wait until Suguru has enough of his behavior and drags him off you. 

"Mine," Satoru repeats. Alarm bells ring in your head but it's easy to brush them off. It's mimicry. They can't understand. It's like talking to a parrot. 

You feel the weight of the other naga at your back. His arms wrap around your waist, pushing you against Satoru's chest. You stiffen when Suguru's fangs lightly graze up your neck. Never quite punctures, but is terrifyingly close.

"Mine," Suguru says into your skin. 

You laugh again, but it comes out less hesitant. More airy. Amid their hold, a sudden thought comes to you.

If you weren't at the top of the food chain anymore, then who was?

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Married couple, Unprotected sex, SMUT, kissing, vaginal fingering, brief cum eating, tit sucking, giving Miguel a hand job while he explains the male anatomy 🫡 brief praises, body worship, eventual breeding kink, mentions of contraceptive pills, couple role play(?)

𝐀/𝐍: Is it me or has tumblr updated and it’s harder to use now?? Like I can’t move images like I used to?! Anyways this is inspired by my old mutuals fic (Salty if you see this, hey bestie!! That Doc fic examining player still lives rent free in my head!) Anyways, enjoy!!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In an effort to make amends for neglecting Miguel, you dedicate a night to spend quality time together. However, Miguel has other ideas to make the evening unforgettable— using science.

Your joints clicked as you stood up from your work chair. You’ve finally finished your project that you’ve been putting your blood, sweat and tears into and sacrificed your sleeping schedule to complete.

Your body felt stiff and heavy from sitting in one place for so long. The apartment was quiet as expected to be at this late hour, amplifying the creaks of your joints.

You switched off the monitor before you left your office and plodded upstairs to the bedroom with heavy steps and slouching shoulders.

You found Miguel in the bedroom, engrossed in tinkering with his watch with only his sweatpants on and no shirt.

His eyes crinkled up as he sensed your presence. “There she is…”

You didn’t feel like you deserved his acknowledgment, let alone his affection, especially the way you’ve neglected him for your work the past few days.

He didn’t expect you to say anything back but he felt the weight of your solemn expression, “¿Estás bien?

You shake your head mutely in response, guilt washing over you. He stepped closer, closing the distance with a gentle stride. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

Your mouth was dry from the lack of fluids you’ve been avoiding, making your voice slightly hoarse “I’m sorry, I’ve been pushing you away.”

He lowered himself and held your chin with his thumb to tilt your head up so you would look at him. The gesture made your heart ache.

“Is that why you’re upset? You know I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always come back to you mi alma,” he murmured.

Even if he did lower himself to be level with you, he still felt bigger. It made you feel protected, the way he towered over you with his large frame.

The holographic lamp illuminated the room, casting a gentle glow. With its subtle lighting you could see the crimson gleam from Miguel’s eyes, which melted the weight of your stress from the past few days and the newfound guilt.

You were glad the main light wasn’t on to flood the room with its sickening bright glow that would scream at you — your eyes needed a rest from the screen and the absence of flood lights gave that comfort you needed.

He leaned in to kiss you and you tiptoed to deepen the kiss. It felt refreshing, feeling his lips again— almost like an anchor that kept you grounded.

You wrapped your arms around his neck while he wrapped his around your waist. His tongue teased your lips before slipping in, tasting you and you let him take his fill of you before pulling away.

“Miguel…” you breathed, hesitant to break the peace in the room.

“How about we shift our focus on a different kind of study.” He suggested. There was a lighthearted undertone in his sentence that you tried to articulate.

You cocked your brow inquisitively until you remembered Miguel’s background in the science field. “Study? As in science?”

“Science is such a broad term. Let’s start with biology and anatomy,”

You heart stuttered in both anticipation and excitement along with your core already throbbing. You could already sense where this was going as soon as you heard anatomy. The atmosphere felt charged guided by the intimate spirit of Miguel’s proposal.

He lifted you up before gently placing you on the bed.

Being a skilled geneticist, Miguel seized every opportunity to share random biology facts, particularly in the most unexpected moments with you.

It was one of the many things you found attractive about him, especially seeing him being so engrossed in explaining things to you in a way you would understand. It made the complexities of biology feel like an intimate and shared journey.

But you’ve never seen him act like this before sex. Perhaps he was trying something new to keep the spark alive.

“How about we remove your clothes.” His hands hiked up beneath your shirt as he spoke.

“Is this part of the biology teaching?” You asked.

“Let’s just say it’s part of the more practical application.” He removed your shirt and your pants, leaving you in your panties and bra. “And you’re the specimen.”

You were amused with where this was going, seeing Miguel’s professional act starting to surface. A scientist eager to teach (and please).

You felt him run his hand over your neck. Spots of goosebumps rose on your skin from the cool air in the room.

“Your skin is so soft…” He murmured into your sensitive skin, making you shiver.

Another advantage of being married to a geneticist was that Miguel knew all the sensitive areas on the body and what made you tick. Even before you did anything together, he was aware of all the areas that could arouse a woman.

His lips grazed over your collarbone, trailing down to where it meets the shoulders.

“The collarbone is connected to your shoulders by the supraclavicular ligament,” he explained softly. He kissed the soft skin around the area.

“Suprac—clavic—ular ligament—” Each syllable accelerated in pitch as you tried to repeat after him.

His hand reached behind your back to unclip your bra before slipping them off, one strap at a time.

Your breasts were now fully exposed and he reached over and cupped one with his large hands.

“The breasts are a collection of organs that play an important role in the reproduction of human females, amor. They are key to producing milk,” He kissed along your chest until he reached the valley between the two breasts.

“They also serve to attract a sexual partner…which seems to be working on us.”

You didn’t expect him to lick the skin where his lips hovered over between your breasts. You shuddered in shock until he pulled away to look up at you again.

“They’re also erogenous zones, making them more sensitive to simulations. Would you like me to demonstrate?” You nodded in response.

You managed to catch the corner of his lips curve up in amusement, even if he made a concerted effort to conceal how turned on he was right now.

He wore the familiar analytical veneer he always carried when he was working in the lab, except this time you could see his excitement babbling beneath the surface.

He dipped his head until his mouth latched onto one of your breasts. Despite knowing this was going to happen, you couldn’t help the surprise whimper that slipped from your mouth.

His tongue lapped over your hardened nipple while his other hand still fondled with your other breast. You groaned out from his touches, running one of your hands over the locks of his hair.

It was flattering, seeing Miguel soaking in everything from you, even when you felt like you had little to offer. Miguel seemed to never get enough of you and to this day, your heart still leaped out of you chest with him around.

He released your nipples and you were met with hooded crimson eyes, dazed and awestrucked. You couldn’t stop your shoulders from bunching together in shyness at him.

He moneuvered you so you were laying your back on the bed. Two broad arms rested besides you on the bed with his abs displayed over you.

“Between the legs are the female reproductive system, we’ll be focusing on the labia minora and the labia majora for this lesson,”

He pulled your panties down, revealing your wetness between your thighs.

A sudden rush of cold air brushed against your folds, making you more wet and exposed. His hand reached over, extending out of your line of sight until his fingers were lightly stroking around the delicate flesh.

“The labia minora is a set of two fleshy folds that form around the inner portion of the labia majora. They are positioned around the vaginal opening to protect the urethra and…”

You gasped when you felt one of his fingers slip into your slick cunt before slowly moving in and out of you.

“…and the vagina.”

His sentence was finished off with the soft sounds of your slick from his fingers along with your breathy moans. Your walls fluttered around his finger while he slipped in another digit in, prompting you to grip onto the sheets tightly.

He moved to your ear and spoke in a lowered tone, his breath brushing against your earlobe. “Do you remember which hormones are released when a person is aroused?”

He rubbed his thumb over your swollen clit while watching you fall apart from his touches. You couldn’t fully process the question in your head, let alone form a coherent response.

“God— Miguel-!” You babbled out.

“Come on amor, I know you know the answer,” he coaxed, having the audacity to continue teasing your cunt with his fingers.

He was going to keep teasing until he got an answer from you. You wouldn’t be surprised if he refused to let you come too until you responded to him with the right answer.

“O-oxytocin and…hm-m…serotonin?” Your words came staggered and breathless. You were fighting the urge to rock your hips further to ride on his finger but you knew better not to push your luck. This was for science after all.

“Such a smart wife. Are you feeling it, amor? The euphoric feeling and the release of the hormones throughout your body?” Miguel was still near your ear as he asked.

You were so drawn into bliss, you almost forgot about the whole biology lesson and the practical demonstration.

You could tell that watching how responsive you were to his touches excited him, especially if it included him talking about what he knew best.

He withdrew his his hands away and curved his finger so none of your slick slipped away. He spread his fingers apart, watching the string of your fluids clinging onto the pads of his fingers.

You felt your face heat up in astonishment, you’ve never seen yourself leak that much before.

You weren’t surprised to see him stick his fingers in his mouth to clean himself up. He ate you out before so this was nothing new to him.

Once he was satisfied, he manoeuvred himself to remove his pants along with his boxers, freeing his aching cock. Despite the low lighting, you could still see it throbbing and the veins lining on the skin.

You sat up enough so you could reach to his cock. You wrapped your hand around his length, earning a low groan from him. “Since we covered the female, do you wanna walk me through the male anatomy now?”

You swiped your thumb over the tip where his pre-cum was leaking from. You were purposefully tormenting him now.

“You’re unbelievable,” he grunted, but you could clearly see he couldn’t stop the grin tugging on his lips.

“Come on Mig, do it for biology,”

You started stroking his length, making sure you touched every part of his skin from the base to the tip.

His breathing became shallow with low whimpers stringing out but he tried to compose himself before he spoke.

“The penis and the testicles both….have a lot of blood flow to them but— hmm.. the main purpose of the testicles is to produce testosterone and—” He couldn’t help the low moan that came out when he felt you increase your pace, but he was still determined to finish.

“Go on…” you prodded.

“…produce testosterone and sperm cells…dios— the penis….the penis is the biggest part of the male anatomy. It allows urination, ejaculation or urine and semen, shit! It also helps the male with erection-!” He finished off the last sentence in one shaky breath. Your hand came to a halt around his tip.

“Thanks for the clarification…” You released his dick swiftly, satisfied by his explanation.

After catching his breath and recomposing himself, Miguel positioned himself so his dick was near your opening. His tip nuzzled against your folds with you silky walls clenching desperately onto nothingness.

You were ready for him, even your clit was throbbing in anticipation, and there was nothing you wanted more than to have him inside you right now.

“Now that we’ve completed the preliminary, I think we should come to the conclusion,” he said.

You couldn’t help the breathy giggles from your lips. He was really immersing himself in the role, playing the part of a tutor with dedication and charm.

He pushed himself inside of you. You haven’t done anything in a while so you had to allow yourself to readjust to his length again.

You fleshy walls struggled to open up but eventually you did accomodate to his size, feeling the familiarity of him.

Once he was all the way in, he came to a halt. Feeling yourself stretch out for him was dizzying. But sudden realisation hit you.

“Miguel, I might be on my fertility window…” you interjected, a tinge of nervousness in your voice.

While you and Miguel have discussed growing a family together in the past, the timing never felt right, and you weren’t ready for the responsibility of motherhood yet.

You’ve been taking birth control pills for your peace of mind. However, with the onset of your work project, you’ve stopped taking the pills and your body was still adjusting to the withdrawal— including your accelerated libido.

Miguel’s face didn’t falter but you could practically see the gears turning in his head from your statement. Everything felt more apparent, especially now with his dick buried inside of you.

“What are you trying to tell me, amor?” You could feel his cock twitching in anticipation inside of you and touching your cervix, almost making you lose your bearing.

“I’m off the pills Miguel. So there’s a chance that I might get knocked up after this…but it is part of biology, right?”

You ran your hands over his broad chest and he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch before resting his forehead on yours.

“You wanna be a mami?” He asked, assuring full clarity and consent from you.

Miguel, a devoted lover, would do anything to make you happy and would give you a family if that’s what you wished for. You nodded and that’s when you knew, he was ready for fatherhood too.

Your hands now wrapped around his naps, fingers lacing together. His gaze dropping to where you bodies joined.

He dragged himself out, feeling the suction from your walls, before snapping his hips back in again. The friction against your walls forced a whine out of you.

He began rolling his hips repeatedly against you in a steady rhythm, each slap ending in a jolt of overwhelming ecstasy. Your fingers were losing their grip around his neck and your hands slipped, with your nails now pressing onto his back.

Your mind and senses started to evaporate and all you could think of right now was chasing your high and Miguel filling you up with his cum, staining you and finally getting you pregnant.

You wanted to feel him for weeks, feel how much he stretched you and filled you. Your nails were digging further into his back as he thrusted deeper into you, hitting your cervix with each snap of his hips.

“Gimme a baby, Mig.” You moaned out, the mere throughly of him breeding you drove you insane. You needed his fill, you needed him to knock you up.

“Sí amor, I’ll give you as many babies as you want,”

His thrusts became more sporadic and you sensed he was lost in a haze too. A few strands of his hair stuck to the moisture that developed on his forehead. You were sinking further into the sheets, taking in everything he was giving you.

The room filled with the bed creaking in protest and the slap of his hips into yours. Soon, his pace became sloppy and uneven.

You watched the familiar trence of your husband’s climax unfold. You always felt a sense of pride knowing that only you could see him so scattered outside the composed and stoic demeanor that everyone else was used to.

His brows furrowed in full concentration and his words came out messy and slurred along with strings of your name.

He finished off with his cum pulsating inside of you in thick loads. He didn’t pull his his hips back until both balls were drenched into you. You felt your walls clenched from the withdrawal as he pulled out.

Immediately, Miguel grabbed one of the pillows and positioned it beneath you, elevating your rear.

“Keep it in there,” he instructed. He didn’t want any of his cum to go to waste and leak out.

He starts to massage your thighs to sooth any aches you were feeling. You mind drifted back to the birth control pill that you still kept in the cabinet. There was still another box left, yet you knew that you weren’t planning to take them anymore.

You mentally reminded yourself to dispose them in the morning. You looked up at Miguel again, who was still massaging your thighs.

You sighed. “You know there’s a chance I might not get pregnant the first time…”

In that moment, vulnerability wrapped around your words which connected the both of you in shared acknowledgment.

You let your mind wandered about finally getting pregnant, with Miguel praising you and kissing your swollen belly. You imagined all the appointments you’d have to attend to, leading up to the day of your baby’s arrival.

“So, does that mean we’ll be having more biology classes?” Miguel stopped massaging and spread you legs again to display your slick core.

“I think so…how about another round?”

He leaned into kiss your forehead. “I’m down if you are.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @slootbear @thealleydog @huniedeux @lazy-idate @club-danger-zone @blankknsfww @ivory3577 @spdrwdw @migueloharasoulmate @ednaaa-04 @miguelbaby @alyeskathewave @r7yirr @palesatan @keigoloveminty @krentkova19 @laysmt @daisy-artfield @famouscattale @fairywitch2000 @lazyjellyfish300 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii

Does anyone recognise the banner I used at the top of the post??

Part 2

[ivysangel]

Jason as a nibbler, a neck biter, a vampire. Not literally, he doesn't need blood to survive, no, but the way his mouth somehow always finds your neck, always finds a way to catch his teeth on your carotid, you'd think he did.

He comes up behind you so innocently sometimes, his hands ghosting over your hips and his hair tickling your jaw. His beautiful, soft, jet-black hair that is so quickly replaced with sharp nips of his teeth. You pull away, pushing his head back with your hand, and he groans; what did I do, his eyes say when he lifts his head to look at you. "You're biting me." you point to the teeth marks on your neck, indents a little deeper where his canines were. "I'm loving you."

You patiently wait for the day he gets carried away and accidentally draws blood, the day when the permissiveness of your flesh gives way to this indulgent behavior of his. He'll nose at the tiny droplets of blood collecting around the puncture wounds, licking and laving as a pool of iron collects on his tongue. Pulling away, looking like a wolf who's just devoured its prey, with blood smeared on the tip of his nose and his pupils blown wide.

He'd tasted blood before when he'd punched too hard, when he'd been punched too hard; the taste was always bitter in his mouth, too metallic, and always lingering long after he'd washed it away with water, but not yours. No, yours was welcome, just as bitter and metallic but also sweet? Comforting? Welcome? Yes, welcome. He'd welcomed you into his life a multitude of times, made room for you in places he'd previously thought to be too cramped. In his home, in his mind, in his heart, but the one place he could never figure out how to integrate you was his body.

Of course, he'd had sex with you, let you touch him in ways he had never been touched before, seen him at his most vulnerable, but it would never be the same for him as it was for you. You could never be inside of him the way he was inside of you. He thought he'd never know how it felt to walk around with ghosts of you inside of him the way you did when he came too deep or stretched you out too much. He thought he'd never know what it felt like to carry a part of his lover around with him outside of a material object. Now, he knew otherwise; he knew there was an alternative—a painful, bloody alternative—but an alternative nonetheless.

[shirefantasies]

You Underestimate Me- Fili x F!Human!Reader

EVERYBODY LIVES AU!!! Warnings: canon typical violence and peril, descriptions of pain/blood/wounds, one suggestive comment

“Fili, stop it!”

The dwarf in question was chasing you through the stream, forcing you to run as fast as you could through the splashing water, which wasn’t much at all considering the resistance.

“Make me.”

One look at his smug face was all the convincing you needed to come to an abrupt stop, extending one leg out and bracing yourself to endure the inevitable strike, the brief pain of Fili barreling into you well worth the splash he made. Spinning on your heels, you joined Kili and Dwalin’s roar of laughter proudly, smiling and giving a little wave to Fili as he rose, dripping.

“Your clothes needed a wash, too,” you remark as he first glared, then shook his head and burst into laughter of his own, “I distinctly remember you saying so.”

Fee’d come back with some sort of revenge, you knew. Even if you didn’t know him so well as you thought and hoped, the look of rivalry-toned respect, the challenge gleaming in his eyes, told it all to you as you strode back to the muddy bank.

“Mark my words,” Fili spoke your name as though it were a vicious utterance, but either a smile upon his face, “if I wasn’t a gentleman, I would pick you up and toss you into the river myself!”

“I’m too big,” you shot back, “You couldn’t even lift me.”

“You underestimate me,” Fili replied to that, striding with great long leather-booted steps right up to your side, "I'm stronger than I look, you know."

"I will believe that when I see it."

"Someday you will," he said simply, joining you at the bank with water rushing from his long golden hair as he shook it out, "Mark my words, I will raise you above my head in triumph!"

At that, you just kicked one more little splash of bank at him and scurried off toward camp, ducking and hiding between Dwalin and Balin lest Fili seek his retaliation then and there.

At dinnertime, the slightest hint of mischief glinted in Fili's eyes, but it was only made manifest in the way his knee darted out, nudging yours and sending you laughing and holding up your bowl.

"Oi! Watch the stew!"

"What was that?" Fili smiled innocently and cupped a hand around his ear, nudging you one more time. "I think I've still got water in my ears. Can’t imagine how that happened."

~

Shattering, cracking bones and crashing steel almost drowned out the blood pounding in your ears as you darted between blades. Cried out names in search of any fragments of familiarity amidst it all. Not a sight of your friends brightened the bleak, black-and-red-painted horizon for what felt like minutes on end. An orc's falling body nearly toppled you over, but your voice was too exhausted to scream.

Panting, you beat the battlefield harshly, pounding it again and again with the soles of your boots. The weight of your black blood-spattered daggers slowed the swing of your arms as you ran, stitches in your sides stinging harshly, but stasis was afforded by no one in such violent bedlam. A blade was flung mere feet from you, and only upon turning to follow its trajectory did you see your attacker.

Scimitar raised and swung, the orc looked down upon you with a sadistic sneer as he slashed you across the side. Gasping, you tumbled back from the sheer force, let alone the burning arc of steel penetrating flesh and the warm trickle of blood spattering and spreading across your body with the impact of your fall. Lightning pain arced up and down your torso and you cried out, barely able to roll away from the next strike. Before the killing blow could fall, though, an arrow struck your assailant through the eye, knocking him right down to your side.

Spots danced in your vision as you heaved there, panic overtaking you. Dirt barely gave way beneath your scrabbling fingers as you forced yourself to attempt crawling forward. Just as the spots began winning, however, a pair of hands darted into your vision and your wound burned when they made brief contact with it. Your last sight before the dark enclosed you was that of Fili pulling you up, hoisting you on his shoulders. Briefly his face, his tear-streaked face, glistening blue eyes, and sad smile passed before you and then you faded away…

“I’m not losing you. I’m not.”

~

It felt like mere seconds later that you jolted awake again, gasping for breath at the shock of pain the motion brought you. Before your hung head was a blanket. Your legs beneath it. You’d been bandaged and lain in a cot. Breath barely came to you and stars danced once more in your vision. Hastily tapping footsteps ran your way and a hand gripped yours.

“Lie down.” Fili.

You spoke his name. He gently but firmly pushed you back onto the bed. Carefully manipulated you by your hands so as not to touch your bleeding side.

“Lie back down,” he repeated, “You’re hurt.”

“We survived,” you panted, giving a weak smile, “You saved me.”

“I told you,” he replied, whispering your name, “I would raise you above my head one day. I kept my promise. You saw.”

“I don’t know,” you teased, “My vision was a little spotty. How can I be sure it was you who picked me up?”

“You underestimate me.” He shook his head and tutted in mock disappointment. “If you wish, I’ll do it again once we’re not so battered.”

“And risk dropping me?”

“Only if we’re standing over a lake.”

Your smile grew. “I’ll never live that down, will I?”

“Not as long as we’re growing old. I’ll always remind you.”

Even in its frail state, your heart leapt at his words, beating harder and deepening your haze. Lips parting, you gaped at Fili, who only smiled harder, squeezing your hand.

“If, that is, you’ll have me. I don’t mean to force the responsibility on you, I’m just… so relieved you made it. Didn’t know what I would do if I lost you before I could tell you how much I love you. You can blame the blood loss on how it came out.”

Shaking your head, you let out a small, breathy laugh. “Responsibility? What responsibility? Babysitting my best friend every day? A small price to pay for a courting bead from the dwarf I love.”

“Any price I could pay for you is small,” Fili added, the hand that wasn’t holding yours reaching up to trace the back of it along the curve of your face.

“Even getting tripped and knocked on your face?”

“Well remember, anytime you do that I get to get you back.”

“And what punishment do you have in mind for me,” you grinned even as your eyelids fluttered weakly, “Hm?”

“Don’t worry,” Fili reassured you with a fond look, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’ll hoist you triumphantly and throw you in plenty of lakes once you rest up.”

“You have a deal,” you replied, allowing Fili’s hand to rotate, pulling you in and caressing the apple of your cheek with his thumb as he brought his lips to yours.

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